Full Circle
by akaJB
Summary: It's been three years since Fallen Kingdom and Claire, Owen and Maisie are trying to navigate life as a family. The escaped dinosaurs (minus the sold ones) have been recaptured and Claire is responsible for their oversight as head of the DPG. The end of the adoption is finally in sight. If only they could keep the word "cloning" from entering the public discussion. Clawen
1. Prologue

_I've gone through and edited and fixed a few mistakes within. Everything was pretty minor, but it's been on my mind to do so for a while.  
_

 _Also - huge thanks to **Elise-Collier** for her help with thinking through this story. :) _

**Prologue**

It all started with a tweet. Twitter really was going to be the death of civilization. Some random guy, a father, with just enough followers, just enough influence, had a tweet go viral.

His son was sick. A genetic disease – _Epidermolysis bullosa_. Suffers are commonly referred to as butterfly children, as they have skin as fragile as a butterfly's wings. His tweet was short. And angry. And since the dinosaurs had never really left the news cycle since their outbreak onto American soil, timely.

" _I'm sick of talking about whether we should save the dinosaurs. We should be talking about why these advances aren't being used to solve genetic conditions that affect everyday Americans. People like my son. His life is worth more than any dinosaur."_

The response was immediate, the tweet crossing a thousand, then ten thousand, then a hundred thousand likes in just a few hours. And the likes kept pouring in. At the same time, it spawned comments and threads as people started to speculate as to what could be cured.

It made the nightly news.

" _Why haven't we been talking about this?_ " News anchors across the country pondered.

" _Don't get me wrong, I love dinosaurs – I had visited Jurassic World three times before the disaster – and I love animals too! But we should be putting people, treating people, before dinosaurs_ ," one national anchor bemoaned.

The initial reaction was generally that this was a no-brainer. _Of course_ , scientists should be doing this. There's no good reason for them not too.

It didn't take long for controversy to start to emerge. Religious groups were divided, with some likening potentially manipulating genes to stem cell research and being an act "against God." Others focused on the "God gave us brains" line and kept the argument on saving sick kids.

Philosophers chimed in with vague statements that could be read multiple ways and often didn't make any sense if you didn't know what they were referencing. Ian Malcolm, who had never really left the speakers circuit after the latest escape, could be found on TV almost every night.

Academics raised the issue that none of the science behind this had gone through proper peer review and that nothing had ever been evaluated by an ethics board.

Medical ethicists were concerned that much of the research could be argued to be rooted in bad practice and worried that patients and advocates didn't fully understand the potential implications of what was being suggested.

They were also the first ones to mention the word cloning. It started a debate on the ethics behind cloning organs. Who would have ownership rights? Would the organs have rights?

Claire was on top of the story from the start. While she didn't have a personal twitter account, the Dinosaur Protection Group, which she continued to run, ran one. And they were always quick to inform her of any trending tweets around dinosaurs because, inevitably, she'd be asked about it by some reporter. She had the DPG put out a statement saying that they were supporters of advances in medical and scientific research and would love to see the research that brought back the dinosaurs be used to save lives.

Owen would've missed it completely. Not a big fan of social media, and preferring to ignore the news as much as possible, he found life easier, and simpler, if he was able to mostly keep himself checked out. Unfortunately, he lived with two very strong-willed females, and so, invariably, he was clued into what was going on, usually around the dinner table.

It became hard to turn on a TV, open a newspaper, or browse social media without encountering the topic in some form. So it shouldn't have been a surprise that it made its way into science classes across the country and around the world.

When it came up in Maisie's seventh grade science class, she listened quietly, but didn't offer an opinion. It was unusual behaviour for the almost teen, but her science teacher let it slide, thinking she was just having an "off" day.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

The dinner conversation the night that the word cloning entered the mainstream news was subdued, everyone lost in their own thoughts on the topic. It was near the end of the meal when Maisie spoke up quietly. "Do you think–" she cut herself off.

Claire and Owen both turned to her, Owen raising an eyebrow while Claire asked, "Do we think what?"

Maisie went to speak, paused, and tilted her head as she considered what she wanted to say. Finally, "They're talking about cloning now. We talked about it in science class." Maisie paused again, and both Claire and Owen waited patiently for her to continue. "It's not going to be long before they're talking about cloning people. One kid brought it up today. Said clones shouldn't exist." She fell silent, using her fork to push a few remaining peas around her plate. She sighed heavily, before whispering, " _I'm_ a clone. He's saying _I_ shouldn't exist."

Claire and Owen looked at each other in panic, neither sure how to even start on this difficult subject. Not that it wasn't something that they hadn't discussed before. But they'd been happy every day, and then every week, and now every year that it hadn't become an issue, and they could just pretend it didn't exist. Claire nodded at Owen and then towards Maisie, urging him to say something. Owen gave a tiny shrug and shake of his head, while the panic in his eyes increased. Claire didn't know why she was surprised, the tough conversations seemed to always fall on her shoulders, even if it was Owen that Maisie always gravitated to.

"Mais," Claire started. She waited until Maisie finally looked up from her plate and met her gaze. "You are a person as much as I am. You have just as much right to exist as I do." When Maisie started to shake her head, Claire added firmly, "You do. And we love you exactly as you are. You wouldn't be Maisie if you weren't you."

Maisie's gaze drifted towards Owen. While she trusted that Claire wouldn't lie to her, she always looked to Owen for confirmation and reassurance. "Seriously, kiddo," Owen nodded, before continuing with, "It matters not what someone is born…" He trailed off mid quote, looking expectantly at Maisie.

There was a pause where it looked like she was not going to say her part, before she heaved a sigh and finished the Harry Potter quote: "but what they grow to be." Owen smiled at her, and she gave a small smile in return.

"You know," Claire spoke up again, "You know you can come to us, anytime, if you want to talk about this, right?"

"Yeah," Maisie nodded. "I know." She paused, looking back down at her plate, before pushing it away and placing her silverware down. "Can I be excused?"

Again, Claire and Owen shared a quick look, before Owen nodded, "Sure." He barely got the word out before Maisie dashed out of the room, and they listened to her climb the stairs, before they heard the door to her bedroom close.

Things were silent for a few moments as the two remained sitting, before Claire let out a heavy sigh, placing her elbows on the table and her head falling into her hands. "It's going to come out."

"No," Owen shook his head. "No, it's not. We're not going to let it."

"There's only so much we can do," Claire replied wearily. "I'm actually surprised Wu hasn't said anything yet."

"That's because he's dead," Owen shrugged.

"We don't _know_ that."

"Well, until I see him again, that's what I choose to believe," Owen dismissed. "Good riddance to him."

"Owen!"

"No, Claire, there's _nothing_ positive about that man. The two major incidences of our lives can be tied directly back to him and his 'creations.' And he was involved in the other incidences too."

"I doubt he's the only one who knows. Others will too."

"Well, we're not going to say anything," Owen shoved his chair back and started pacing. Stress always made him antsy – he liked problems he could jump in and solve, not things he had to wait on others for.

"Of course not," Claire looked shocked. "I'd never suggest that. I'm just saying we need to be prepared. And we need to _prepare Maisie_. Because it is going to come out. If not Wu, someone else. We don't know even know who knows. And I'm sure there were records. Cloning isn't simple. There were bound to be…" she glanced towards the stairs before adding in a whisper, "problems along the way. I'm sure they made mistakes."

"Maisie _isn't_ a mistake," Owen shook his head adamantly, stopping his pacing to glare at Claire.

"I _know_ that," Claire sighed again. "That's not what I said. Why do you always assume I'm not on your side? That I'm not on _Maisie's_ side?" She stood up as well and started gathering the dishes.

"What are you doing?" Owen looked confused as to her actions.

"What does it look like?" Claire rolled her eyes.

"I thought we were going to discuss this. You're the one who just said we need to."

"I can't do this Owen," Claire paused with a stack of dishes in her hands. "I don't want to argue about this. I don't know what you want from me. But I can't… I won't have this discussion if you're just going to blame me–"

"We need to protect her, Claire."

Claire slammed the stack of dishes onto the kitchen counter. "What do you think I'm trying to do? You're not the only one who loves her." She angrily brushed away the tears that were forming.

Owen deflated slightly, pausing behind a chair, gripping the back tightly and leaning on it. "I know that." At Claire's look of disbelief, he repeated himself. "I _do_ know that Claire. Maisie knows that too."

"This isn't easy," Claire paused and shook her head, correcting herself. "This has _never_ been easy. But, I'm trying Owen. I'm always trying. I want to be involved. I want to protect her too. It doesn't come easy to me, the way it does for you." She looked down at the wedding ring on her finger, and started to twist it anxiously. "Everything, everything since that night, has been for Maisie."

Owen followed her gaze to her ring, before looking at the matching one he's wearing. He stood up, scrubbing his hands down his face. "Everything?" He asked hoarsely.

Claire had been too busy focused on twisting her ring, that she hadn't followed Owen's movements. And so she didn't understand why, when she nodded, and said "Everything," a dark look crossed Owen's face before he stormed out of the room.

Unlike Maisie, who they had heard traipsing through the house all the way to her room, when Owen stormed off, it was silent. There were no heavy footsteps echoing down hallways, no slamming of doors. It was like he left the room and just disappeared. Claire wouldn't have even known where he'd gone, except a minute later she heard a loud crash coming from the garage. The sound caused her to wince, before she looked back down at the pile of dishes. Once again, she was the last one standing in the kitchen.

Her movements were habitual and not conscious, as she filled the dishwasher and started it, washed the few pots that couldn't go in, and made sure everything that needed to go back in the refrigerator had been put away. And once she was done, she paused at the junction in the hallway, debating if she should go and see Owen. If she should try to talk it out. These arguments (she didn't want to call them fights) seemed to be coming with increasing frequency.

In the end, she headed up the stairs to check in on Maisie. After getting an annoyed "come in" response from her knock, she found Maisie sprawled on her bed with her iPad. She tried not to react when she noticed the girl was hugging her orange stuffed sock monkey – the monkey that dated back to her Lockwood Estate days. The sock monkey had brought her a lot of comfort after the incident, but for the last couple of years, it had mainly sat in a place of pride on her bookshelf. She gave Maisie a quick kiss on the top of her head, told her she loved her, and reminded her to brush her teeth before bed. Maisie only gave her a grunt in response.

She paused at the doorway to the master bedroom, before retreating back down the stairs and disappearing into her office. It shared a wall with the garage, and she could hear the faint sounds of metal on metal of Owen working on his bike. The noise was familiar and comforting, and the tension in her shoulders eased a bit.

And then she did what she did best. She researched. And she started to make a plan.

x x x

Maisie breathed a sigh of relief when the door closed behind Claire. She had heard the crash of dishes in the kitchen followed by a crash coming from the garage. She knew that they had been fighting again. It had been happening more and more lately. They thought she didn't know, fighting in hushed whispers that stopped the moment she entered a room. She had spent years sneaking around the Lockwood Estate, creeping up on Iris, Mills and her grandfather. She remained pretty stealthy. If it wasn't for Owen's military training, followed by years of having to be hyper-vigilant around the raptors, she knew she'd be able to overhear even more. As it was, she hadn't managed to hear much, and didn't know exactly what the fighting was about. But it started around the time the tweet went viral, so she was pretty sure she could guess.

She wasn't sure if Claire could tell that she'd quickly switched apps on her iPad, not wanting Claire to see what she had been really doing. She wasn't supposed to have any social media accounts. Both Claire and Owen had been adamant about that. That she was too young.

Maisie had made a twitter account the week after the first tweet went viral. She wanted to know what was being said. And she'd spent the first week on twitter every moment she could, being sucked down the rabbit hole of tweet after tweet, thread after thread. She liked, retweeted and even made some comments of her own. But after a week, it felt repetitive and that nothing new was being said. She'd put it aside.

But today. Today people had started talking about cloning. And about cloning _people_. She couldn't put it down.

x x x

In the garage, Owen sat hunched on the bottom step, elbows braced on his knees, head cupped in his hands. Occasionally, he would shift his foot, bumping a couple of tools together, mimicking the sounds of him working.

Six years ago, after the Jurassic World disaster, once they'd been free to leave Costa Rica but still required to be in San Diego near Masrani headquarters, one of the first things he had bought was a second-hand motorcycle. While he loved the freedom he felt riding on a motorcycle, as opposed to being trapped in a car, what he really loved was the tinkering. For as long as he could remember, he thought best when his hands were occupied. The motorcycle purchase was about more than freedom; it was about security and comfort. His version of a child's blanket.

In those early days, Claire would often hang out while he worked. Sometimes she'd ask questions about what he was doing. Once or twice he even tried to teach her (they both quickly realized that it was a) not something Claire had any interest in learning, and b) it was the solitary act of tinkering that was soothing, and teaching Claire most definitely _wasn't_ ). But, usually, there would just be silence. He'd work on his thing, and Claire more often than not would bring out a stack of documents she was working through, or read and reply to emails on her phone. They were together, but separate; comforted just by the knowledge that the other was around.

He had been surprised the first few times it had happened, when barely a word was spoken between them. He found himself trying to come up with conversation topics, sure that Claire wasn't enjoying this. Until one evening, he found himself watching her more than tinkering, and realized that he wasn't sure he'd ever seen her so relaxed. After that, he let himself just enjoy the silence.

Following the initial craziness of the second incident, when it felt like one hundred things were happening simultaneously, he had found himself missing those evenings with his bike. That ability to just escape the chaos for a while and think through the day in the comfort of silence. And, just as importantly, spending that time alone with Claire.

The moment they started talking about a house, he started thinking about getting a new second-hand motorcycle. He had sold his previous one when he chose a life on the road. The house search took a while, as they first had to sort out the legal details behind keeping Maisie, followed by a bit of negotiating as to where they wanted to live. In the end, the where wasn't actually the hard part. It was agreed upon with little debate that they would remain in or close to San Francisco, as Claire needed to be near the DPG headquarters. The cabin Owen was building was designed to be just that – a cabin. A place to retreat to for holidays and long weekends. An escape from the city. It was never meant to be a permanent home. Even when Owen found himself initially considering the land purchase, and then sketching out plans, he found it hard to see himself living there full time. (Of course, at that point, he assumed it would be his base, but that he'd spend most of his time still exploring the open roads with his van.)

They had immediately dismissed Claire's condo as too small for the three of them. It was a one bedroom plus den and she'd been using the den as a home office (although they had hurriedly converted it into a makeshift second bedroom for Maisie). Maisie was used to having lots of room to run around and explore; to be able to make up games and adventures and then act them out. The apartment was stifling, the three of them tripping over each other.

Owen argued for a house, and Claire, to his surprise, didn't hesitate to agree. And when they started looking, he thought she'd be all over the kitchen appliances or having granite countertops, but instead, she seemed most interested in how big the backyard was, and if there was a garage or shed that he'd be able to call his own. They ended up farther from the city than originally planned, but pricing in and around San Francisco was crazy, and they weren't willing to compromise on certain features. Eventually, they had found a house with a large backyard that backed onto a small wooded area that had a park on the far side. There was an attached two car garage, three bedrooms, a large living room and kitchen, and a small den that could easily be converted into an office for Claire.

Two weeks after they had moved in, Owen had come home to be greeted by Maisie running out the front door.

" _Come on, come on," she'd demanded, grabbing his hand and pulling him. "We've got a surprise for you."_

 _She had led him into the garage, where Claire was standing beside a motorcycle, clutching tightly to the keys, and looking more nervous than he'd seen her in a long time. His mouth had dropped open in shock, his gaze swinging between the motorcycle and Claire and back again._

" _Here," Claire had stepped forward and handed him the keys. "I've got my office, Maisie has the run of the backyard, it's time that you had your space too. And I know how much you enjoyed working on your last one." She had looked at him shyly over the comment and he hadn't hesitated to pull her into a giant bear hug._

" _Thank you," he whispered into her ear, before pulling back slightly to look her in the eyes. "It's perfect."_

" _Maisie helped pick it out," Claire nodded towards the girl, who was standing off to the side, watching the two nervously._

 _Owen stretched out an arm, gently tugging Maisie into the hug, before repeating himself to the two. "Thank you. It's perfect."_

He found himself, most nights, spending an hour or two in the garage. At the beginning, Maisie and/or Claire would often join him. Maisie had initially seemed interested in learning all she could about it, but that interest died away pretty quickly when she started to realize "tinkering" wasn't the same as "fixing" and that the goal wasn't simply to get it working. And Claire, well, he wasn't sure what happened. But she stopped coming even before Maisie. He had thought, initially, that it might be that she wanted to give the two of them time alone together, but she never resumed once Maisie stopped, and he hadn't been able to bring himself to ask her why. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know.

And now, three years later, the garage was his refuge. When he retreated out there, neither Maisie nor Claire followed him, and he could guarantee himself a couple of hours of alone time.

Usually. He had discovered ne day that if he didn't make any noise out there, that they would wonder what was happening, and his alone time would be over.

 _He'd been sitting on the step just mulling over his day, when there had been a knock on the door behind him that led into the house, before it inched open and Claire's head had poked out. "Owen, everything okay?"_

" _What?" he'd looked up, confused by the intrusion._

" _Normally I can hear you tinkering from my office," Claire tilted her head towards the wall the garage shared with the office. "It's been silent tonight. Everything okay?"_

" _Oh, sorry," Owen gave her a half smile. "Just tired."_

After that evening, he'd made it a point to make some noise on the nights he just wanted to sit. Just enough not to raise any suspicions and bring anyone into his space.

And tonight… tonight he was brooding. And he definitely didn't want company.

In the beginning, after the second incident (and he still couldn't get over the fact that there had been _two_ incidents now), things had moved quickly between him and Claire. At the time, it had all felt _right_. And there really wasn't any time for thinking too carefully or deeply about what was happening.

Mills was dead, and so Maisie had no official guardian. They'd found some paperwork (which they suspected was fake), including a birth certificate for Maisie. When the news started breaking the next day, Iris had showed back up at the Estate, having left the previous evening and gone into Orrick for the night. While she had been happy to continue to look after Maisie, even she agreed, that it wouldn't be the best long term solution. Maisie was too young and Iris was getting too old to be chasing after her and caring for her on her own.

Maisie had attached herself to Owen like a barnacle, and wasn't willing to let go. It had taken some convincing (okay, a _lot_ of convincing, including Claire reaching out to many of her connections) to get approval for Maisie to stay with the two. And even when they did, it was still temporary.

The word adoption arose almost immediately in conversation, but it's not a simple or fast process. They weren't married (and, technically, they weren't even dating – there hadn't even been time to have _that_ conversation). And that was only _one_ hurdle.

It was only two months after the incident that Claire approached him and suggested marriage. That it would be the "best thing for Maisie" and that it was a necessary step if they wanted to actually adopt her. There was absolutely nothing about the proposal that was romantic. It was a business deal through and through.

But, even saying that, he _knew_ Claire wouldn't have suggested it if she didn't want to marry him at least a little. It was not like she would've given the same proposal to Franklin. And besides, since the first night they'd finally been able to leave the Estate with Maisie, and had ended up back at Claire's small condo, they'd been sharing a bed. Without thinking, without planning, they'd fallen back into a couple routine, now with the addition of a kid.

And it wasn't like they were just two adults who happened to be living in the same place – it had only taken two nights before Claire had been startled awake by Owen tossing and turning, mumbling about Blue, in the throws of a nightmare. She'd woken him up, and instinctively they'd fallen back on old habits, soothing away nightmares by getting lost in each other.

He had thought it might be awkward the next morning, but when he'd finally woken up (alone) and pulled on a pair of pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt (he didn't feel comfortable in just boxers around Maisie) and wandered out into the kitchen, Claire had greeted him with a soft kiss and asked him how he was feeling. And it was like that was just the simple switch that needed to be flicked, and all was right again in the world. Or, at least, he had thought so, at the time.

And so, when Claire raised the idea of marriage, and knowing that it was one of the hurdles on the path to adoption, he'd said yes. They were married only a week later, just a small courthouse wedding with immediate family (Karen, Zach, Gray and Karen's new boyfriend on Claire's side, and his parents and brother on his), followed by a nice dinner with a few friends who were nearby (including Zia and Franklin).

Before they started the adoption proceedings, they had sat Maisie down and talked it through with her. They let her know that it was up to her if they went forward or not. That either way, she would be able to stay with them, and that she'd still be able to see Iris. And that, most importantly, she didn't have to decide that moment.

It was on the one year anniversary of the incident that Maisie had approached them and said that she'd like to be adopted. They had initiated the proceedings the next week. It had been almost two years and they were just now, _finally_ , starting to hear their lawyers talk about the end being in sight. It was expected to be finalized over the next couple of weeks.

He'd been looking forward to this moment, because while he viewed the three of them as a family, Maisie would continue to make small remarks indicating she didn't. Owen was hoping that once the adoption was finalized, that maybe, whatever it was that was holding Maisie back, would be removed. Most of all, he was hoping that she'd finally feel comfortable enough to call them her parents; to call them mom and dad.

But now, as he sat there on the bottom step, he wondered if it was all in vain. That if the illusion they had been presenting as a happy family was just that, an illusion. That while he had been thinking that they were happy, Maisie couldn't bring herself to call them her parents, and Claire had married him for Maisie. He worried now, that if they hadn't encountered Maisie that fateful night three years ago, that he and Claire would simply have gone their separate ways again.

He believed that Claire loved him. But loving someone and wanting to be with them didn't always go hand in hand. Had Claire actually chosen him? Or had she chosen Maisie, and he was part of the package?

He groaned, and rubbed his palms against his eyes. He felt the cool metal of his wedding ring brush his forehead, and he brought his hands back down, his gaze latching on to the ring. The sight of it use to bring him so much joy, and now it felt tainted.

In a moment of rage, he pulled it from his finger, fist closing over it, hiding it from view, before he swung his arm, and flung it across the garage, where, with a tiny clang, it hit the garage door, before falling to rest on the ground. But he didn't even notice, tears blurring his vision, his head already back in his hands.

* * *

 _Thanks for taking the time to read. Please drop me a review and let me know what you think. I'm always interested in what your favourite (or least favourite) part is. And what you think might be coming in the future. It's pretty loosely planned, but I'm always open to ideas for new twists. :)_


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

A week later and the tension in the house remained high. Everyone was continuing to go about their normal daily activities as required, but the level of communication had dropped significantly. Maisie was caught up in her thoughts (and her twitter feed of constant updates and outrage) over the idea of human cloning. Claire and Owen hadn't had a one-on-one conversation since that night about anything besides household necessities (groceries, chores, who was going to make dinner, etc). They would (attempt to) put on a good face in front of Maisie, acting like all was well. But if it wasn't for their routine of family dinners, Claire was sure they wouldn't have spent more than five minutes in each other's company.

And it was only a matter of time before something gave way.

She hasn't been sleeping well. She'd become use to falling asleep to the sound and rhythm of Owen's breathing. On nights where sleep was particularly tough, she would curl into his side, hand or head on his chest, and let his heart beat lull her to sleep, usually accompanied by his fingers running through her hair.

But now, he was never in their bedroom when she went to bed. And so she would lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening for his footsteps on the stairs (not that she expected to hear them). She never did see or hear him, and eventually she would drift off into a restless sleep.

If it wasn't for the fact that his side of the bed was rumpled when she woke, she would be sure he wasn't sleeping. But as it was, she has no idea how he could be functioning, because she felt like she was getting less and less sleep herself.

And then, a couple of days ago she noticed it. Or, more accurately, noticed the absence of _it_. Owen wasn't wearing his wedding ring. She wasn't sure if he'd just forgotten, or what, and hadn't wanted to make a big deal of it at the time (it was in the middle of dinner). But, she'd been watching carefully since, and it had yet to make a reappearance.

She knew she was going to have to be the one to say something. Owen preferred to brood or pretend the problem didn't exist if he didn't know how to fix it. It would be up to her to actually take that first step. And it appeared things were even worse than she knew. How had they become so distant? It felt like only days ago they had been best friends and now she might as well be living with a stranger.

x x x

Maisie knew things were getting worse at home. She hadn't seen Claire or Owen talk to each other in days. And she knew she should be concerned. But there was so much news to keep up with. Cloning was one complicated field of science. She'd learned more in the past few days about genetics than she had all year in her science class. People were talking about Dolly the sheep and how she'd died early of a disease (although the disease couldn't be directly tied to her cloning). But it made her wonder, was _she_ going to die young?

A common thread recently, was whether a cloned "being" would exhibit the same behaviours as the "original." How different would a clone be? How much would nature versus nurture have an effect? With Barbara Streisand's recent confession about cloning her dog, some of the conversation focused around how she had already come forward to say the cloned dogs did not exhibit the same behaviour of her first dog. But, then again, they were growing up as a pair of siblings, not a single dog. And times change. Barbara Streisand herself would be different person now, then she would've been when she got her original dog.

The topic of identical twins also came up frequently. With a lot of anecdotal "evidence" being raised on both sides of the nature vs nurture debate. "Well, _my friends_ are so different you'd never know they were twins." "Yeah, so? I remember hearing about two twins separated at birth and they grew up to dress alike and get the same type of job and marry the same type of wife." And on and on the discussion went.

Usually, after reading for a while, Maisie would feel a desperate need to start _moving_. Something to get some energy out, as her mind raced with thoughts and she tried to piece together everything she was learning. However, she'd been retreating to her treehouse lately, a sanctuary she had built with Owen soon after they moved into the house. And while it wasn't _tiny_ , it didn't provide a lot of room for movement. And she'd gone out there precisely because Claire and Owen rarely came into it, and so were unlikely to ever stumble across what she was reading.

Today, the need to move was too great, and in the end, she abandoned the iPad in the treehouse, half climbing, half jumping her way back to the ground before racing around the house for her bike. A ride around the block sounded perfect.

The garage door was open, and Owen was inside tinkering (as always) with his motorcycle. He looked up as he heard Maisie approach.

"Just going for a ride," she told him, as she pulled on her helmet before pulling the bike out of the garage and onto the driveway.

"It's almost dinnertime," Owen reminded her, looking down at his watch. "Don't stay out too long."

She gave him a nod, a quick wave and a "Bye Owen" before taking off down the driveway, getting the smallest of air off the curb, before pedaling down the street.

x x x

As was becoming normal, Maisie calling him "Owen" made him almost cringe. He always tried to hide his reaction, as he didn't want to put extra pressure on her, but he really wished she'd feel comfortable calling him 'dad.' Even though she had been living with them for three years now, and even though he and Claire had never hesitated to tell her that they loved her and were there for her, she had been very slow in overcoming similar hurdles. He was worried the longer it took, and the older she became, the less likely she ever would.

After they originally took her in, he came back to the apartment one day to find a stack of books on Claire's bedside table, all about adoption and fostering – on how to build a successful relationship with a child and general parenting tips. He had gone to flip through them, initially planning on teasing Claire about them, only to find himself settling on the bed as he got sucked in. In the end, they had both made their way through the stack, the books swapping sides of the bed as they finished. Sometimes, late at night, as they both read in bed, one would mention something they were reading and how it related to something that had happened recently.

The books had told them it was important to make Maisie feel safe, secure, and loved. That she needed to know that she could do something wrong, and they'd still love her. That she was allowed to make mistakes. It also said that they shouldn't force her (or even encourage her) to say _I love you_ or to start calling them mom and dad. That it should be up to her for when and if she did either.

The milestones have been few and far between.

It took her over a year to say _I love you_. It was after the adoption proceedings had started that one night, when Claire had stopped by to tuck her in, that she had sleepily repeated it back. Claire had barely made it back out the door before tears had welled up in her eyes. Owen had found her a few minutes later, sobbing into her hands just outside Maisie's door. And when she confessed why she was crying, he had sheepishly admitted that Maisie had said it to him earlier that week, similarly in response to him saying it. Since then, Maisie had repeated it, but she never volunteered it first. It was always in response to one of them saying it. And it wasn't every time.

The second milestone, was her calling them her parents. For the first two years, she'd refer to them either as "Claire and Owen" or "these are my guardians." And then, one night, at a parent teacher conference, she'd introduced them as "my parents, Claire and Owen." They had thought they'd made progress that night, but she hadn't introduced them that way since.

The third milestone, the milestone he was waiting for most eagerly, was for her to call them mom and dad. He'd called his raptors his girls and he'd loved them like a father. But they, not surprising since they were raptors, had never called him dad. He hadn't realized how much he wanted that title until Maisie had entered his life. But this milestone had continued to remain elusive. Maisie continued to refer to them as Claire and Owen, and Claire and Owen continued to not say anything about it to her. Owen had overheard Maisie talking with Gray during a visit, when Gray had asked her why she didn't call them mom and dad. Maisie had just shrugged and changed the subject.

And he knew he shouldn't complain. Overall, their relationship with Maisie was great. She was generally a good kid, she liked school, and had even consented to joining a soccer team. (Owen had laughed – privately – to himself over the idea of Claire being a soccer mom. Although he supposed that Claire got the last laugh, as she'd signed him up as coach.)

It didn't help that the adoption was dragging on and on. Between the complications of Maisie's family history (in the end they had decided it was better to raise the cloning at the start than have it come out after, and they weren't naive enough to think it _never_ would), and the general slowness of government bureaucracy, it often felt like they were moving backwards. They had hired lawyers and had worked hard to make sure the fewest eyes every saw any evidence about Maisie's background and that the files would be sealed from public disclosure. Owen had never been more thankful for all the connections Claire had made through her years working as Operations Manager at Jurassic World and then running DPG, as they had been pulling in favours left, right, and center to move the adoption along.

He shook away his thoughts and glanced at the time again. If they were going to eat dinner as scheduled, he should probably actually start making it.

x x x

"Ready?" A man spoke into a walkie-talkie clipped to his leather vest. He stood high up on a small platform sticking out from a concrete wall, looking down into a relatively barren looking "arena," for lack of a better word. It was about the size of a football field, surrounded by the thick concrete wall on all four sides. The walls were about forty feet high and thick enough to support a narrow walkway for workers.

Both narrow ends supported large gates that could be slid open, and extended almost to the height of the catwalk. But the north end gate opened into a smaller paddock, where an _Ankylosaurus_ could be seen pacing in frustration, continually testing the strength of the surrounding walls.

"Yes," the reply came, only to be immediately followed by: "Wait. Not quite. One more second."

At the south end, by the second entrance, a convoy of military armoured tanks were waiting, engines on.

The man reached for the walkie-talkie again, pressing down on the talk button. "We don't have all day here. Are the cameras ready or not?" He uses a pair of binoculars to scan the walkway atop the walls, locating the three camera men strategically placed. The one he'd been communicating with was fiddling with something on the tripod under his camera. A moment later, he watched as the man stood and reached for his own walkie-talkie.

"All good," the reply came through. "Just making sure everything's set. Don't want to miss a second of this."

"Camera 2 and Camera 3 can you both confirm you are set?" the man asked. He got two affirmative replies, and he turned his gaze back to the south entrance. "Start recording now. And let's get the tanks inside."

It took a while for this next task to be complete. The gate was heavy and slow to operate. The gears groaned, but eventually the gap was large enough the first tank was able to start its entry. Once inside, the five tanks formed a V pattern, with the head of the V pointed towards the north gate. They all then waited for the gate to close.

He raised the walkie-talkie again, "Confirming camera check?" and again received three affirmative replies. He shifted his gaze down to the tanks, "Are you boys ready in there?" Again, there was no pause before five voices chimed in their acknowledgement.

"Okay, let's get this show on the road. Open the gate." He saw from the corner of his eye, all three cameras move to focus on the north gate, as he did the same. He could just make out the back of the ankylosaur from his position, and watched as it appeared to line up facing the gate.

This is what they had been preparing for. And they were ready. Or so help them God. He quickly did the sign of the cross before clutching the cross that hung around his neck.

And then, the _Ankylosaur_ entered the arena.

x x x

Claire managed to make it through dinner before saying something. Actually, she made it through dinner and then waited long enough for Maisie to disappear back out into the backyard. She and Owen were silently cleaning up the kitchen when she finally gathered her courage.

"Hey Owen," she started small.

"Hmm?"

"Can we talk?" she paused beside the dishwasher, stack of dirty dishes in her hand, waiting for him to look at her.

He finally stopped mid scrubbing to turn and look at her from the sink. "Talk?"

"Yeah, you know, exchange words. Communicate," she sighed, mentally beating herself up. She wanted to hold her cool as long as possible. "We haven't been talking."

"We've been talking," Owen protested. "We just had a conversation at dinner."

"Owen," their eyes met for a moment, before his head fell in defeat. "You know what I mean."

"What do you want to talk about?" Owen turned back to the dishes, grateful to not have to face her for this conversation. He'd been waiting for it for days now. But he still hasn't figured out what he wanted to say. And he wasn't even sure what _she_ was going to say, and that threw him more than usual. Normally conversation just flowed between them.

"I want to talk–" Claire was interrupted by her phone ringing. It was sitting on the kitchen counter between the two and they both watch it for a second, as it skittered across the counter. She couldn't help herself though and she was reaching for it before the first ring was over.

"You don't have to answer it," Owen reminded her, and she yanked her hand back.

"It's work."

"It's _always_ work. You know, you're the boss. You don't have to jump every time your damn phone rings," Owen snapped.

"They only call when it's important."

"Right," Owen rolled his eyes, "Because nothing can ever wait 5 damn minutes. Jesus Claire, this was a conversation you wanted to have." He slammed his hand against the counter, making her jump.

"Forgive me for being nervous about it," she yelled back, grateful that Maisie had chosen to go out to her treehouse after dinner. Although, come to think of it, she _was_ spending an awful lot of time out there lately. She pushed that thought aside, finally saying (well yelling) what had been on her mind for days now, "You're the one who's stopped wearing your ring." She paused, looking at the ground, deflating slightly, before whispering. "I don't know what that means. Do you… do you want…" She couldn't get the words out.

Owen's gaze had fallen to his hand in shock at her pronouncement. He vaguely remembered pulling it off the other night, but he hadn't realized he hadn't put it back on. He almost missed the words, as she said them so quietly. His gaze snapped back up, locking on hers. "Wait, what?"

"Your ring," she gestured lamely at his hand. "I don't know what you're trying to tell me. If you want… if you want a… you can just tell me, you know." She tried to sound brave, like she'd be okay no matter what he said, but she still couldn't bring herself to use the word. The phone gave out a final ring, before falling silent against the counter.

"No, that's not it," Owen shook his head, his gaze jumping back to his hand for a second before locking again with her own. "I'm not… I didn't mean…" He sighed.

"I know things haven't been great lately," Claire confessed. "But I didn't know they were this bad."

"They're not," Owen was panicking now. _This_ was not the conversation he had been expecting.

"You don't even come to bed anymore."

"That's not true," Owen shook his head again.

"Not until after I fall asleep," Claire pushed him. "And you're gone before I wake."

"It's just been–" Owen started, only to be interrupted by Claire's phone, which started ringing and vibrating its way across the counter again. They both turn and look at it. This time, they're both silent, waiting for the phone to stop on its own. When it finally did, Owen continued, "Let me–"

He got interrupted _again_ by the phone. And this time, he could see the restraint it was taking Claire not to pick it up. And even he had to admit it had to be important, or they would've left a message and moved on. He waved at the phone. "Just answer it."

Claire looked at the phone and then back at him and then back at the phone. "No," she shook her head.

"Claire," Owen almost growled her name. "They're not going to stop calling. Just answer it."

"But–"

"Just answer it!" he grabbed the phone and shoved it at her. He turned to stare out the window into the backyard, as she finally did so.

There was a loud "What?!" followed almost immediately by a "I'm coming in." He turned at that, his movement catching her eye. He watched as she winced, before nodding along to whatever she was hearing. After a few more "uh huh" and "wait for me before you say anything" she hung up.

"You're going in." He said it matter-of-factly. Not that he expected differently.

"I–"

"Just go," he dismissed her with a wave of his hand, turning back to the window.

"Owen," she paused, but he didn't turn back. "We're not done with this conversation." She turned to take a couple of steps from the room, before pausing again and looking back at him, but he was still facing the window. "You should probably turn on the TV. Things are about to get worse."

x x x

He didn't turn on the TV. He knew he probably should. And he told himself he would. But he had a more important task to deal with first. The moment he heard her car pull away from the house, he was in the garage.

Dammit, where did he put the ring? The night he took it off was a blur, and he couldn't remember what he did.

He was tearing his way across his workbench when Maisie interrupted him from the doorway. "Owen?"

Before he could control it, he snapped out his reply, "Not now Maisie, can't you see I'm busy?"

"I just need–"

"No!" he thundered his response, just as a pile of tools went sliding off the end of the counter, clattering to the floor. There was complete silence for a moment, and he grabbed the edge of the counter, hanging his head and counting to ten, before he stood back up and turned to face Maisie. He was dismayed to see that she had her back pressed against the wall, looking almost afraid of him.

"I'm sorry," he took a step towards her, and if it wasn't for the wall, he was sure she'd take a step back. He paused, palms towards her, hands apart, trying to show no harm. "I'm sorry kiddo." He took a deep breath. "I did something stupid. I _lost_ something and I have to find it. I'm just on edge." He turned his head, looking back at the workbench.

"I can help," Maisie whispered. "I'm good at finding things. What did you lose?"

She was right. She _was_ good at finding things. And he'd definitely benefited from her help before. But as he went to open his mouth to tell her, he realized he couldn't. How could he tell her that he lost his wedding ring? It was bad enough that Claire knew it was missing. He didn't want Maisie to know too.

He took another deep breath and gave her a smile. "You _are_ good at finding stuff. I'd love your help." And then he proceeded to describe a random tool that he knew was over by his bike and not on the workbench.

She found it quickly (no surprise) and he thanked her profusely. He didn't manage to search again right away, as she had been coming by to see if he'd help her study for her history test. He agreed readily, accepting the stack of cue-cards he hadn't noticed her clutching before.

Later, once she was in bed and, thankfully, Claire still hadn't arrived home, he headed back to the garage. He grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge on the way, popping the top off as he re-entered the garage, and slumped down onto the steps, gaze skimming around the area. How was he going to find a tiny ring in all this space? He was _almost_ wishing he'd listened to Claire and had done a better job keeping the place organized.

He remembered sitting on the step and taking it off. Of clenching it in his fist and then angrily throwing it. He thought it hit the garage door. He got up and took a walk along the garage doors, but didn't see it, and ended up back on the steps.

As he sipped his beer, he found himself fiddling with the bottle cap, tossing it up into the air to catch it, or just flipping it over and over in his hand. He was a little ashamed to admit it took almost the whole beer before he actually got an idea of how he could find his ring.

The bottle cap!

He looked down at it in his hand and realized it was probably similarly weighted to the ring. He tried hard to remember how he was sitting, before clenching the cap in his fist and letting it fly. This time, unlike last time, he watched the cap as it arced through the air. Saw it bounce off the garage door, before falling to the ground, and sliding out of sight under a shelving unit.

He hurried after it, and it took a few more minutes, but he managed to locate the ring. He slid it back onto his finger and the weight felt like home. It both surprised and shamed him that he hadn't realized it was missing.

His relief was short lived. He did what Claire had suggested at the start. He turned on the TV.

" _Leaked video shows successful field test of_ Ankylosaurus _in Indonesia._ "


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Claire had expected the fallout from the _Ankylosaurus_ field test to be bigger. While the dinosaurs had rarely left the news since their unfortunate release into the California wilderness (and then recollection and resettlement), the DPG had been generally able to control the focus of the stories. Besides the initial announcement after the incident that some dinosaurs had been sold, there had been no leaks or news about those dinosaurs in the years since. And so, instead of focusing on the past human-dinosaur disasters, the DPG had been able to release regular updates on how the recaptured dinosaurs were doing settling on their new island sanctuary.

The island Mills had initially told Claire about had turned out to be a real island after all and fully owned by the Lockwood Estate. While it took some time (and a lot of lawyers), the DPG had been granted control of the island and had worked hard to turn it into Lockwood's original goal – a haven for the dinosaurs that had survived.

The island was labeled restricted. Thankfully, it was far enough offshore off the coast of southern California, that the DPG didn't have to deal with many trespassers. Most thrill-seekers couldn't get out to the island (too far for normal pleasure boats to reach), and the helipad was under heavy surveillance.

The DPG had also worked to actively discourage thrill-seekers by making a lot of information public. Claire had known, after all the previous incidents, that the best move going forward was to aim for transparency. It was easier for naysayers to blame people when they didn't know what was going on and could make up their own "alternative facts." Claire insisted that this time they were going to be in front of the news, not playing catch up.

And so, to help with people's thirst for knowledge and access, the DPG had spent a lot of money and time covering the island in cameras. The cameras had two purposes. The first was to keep an eye on the dinosaurs, allowing the vets and researchers access. They kept watch for infections or other health problems, as well as tracking births, deaths and learning about the dinosaurs behaviours. The second purpose was outreach and PR. They had chosen a few select cameras to livestream through their website, allowing the public a glimpse into life on the island. The livestream was (annoying if you asked Owen but lucrative if you asked Claire) interrupted every couple of minutes with ads encouraging viewers to support the DPG by "adopting a dinosaur" or buying merchandise. Even though the dinosaurs were off on their own island and there was limited human interaction, continuing to keep them alive was not cheap.

So while news and videos of dinosaurs was not a rare occurrence, militarized dinosaurs were. Therefore, when Claire had rushed to the office that night the leaked military test, she had expected to walk into a firestorm. That they would be inundated with press calls. That many of the politicians who hadn't wanted to save the dinosaurs in the first place, those who agreed with Ian Malcolm that they were an abomination, would be the first on the news, screaming the loudest.

Instead, the news barely seemed to enter the collective consciousness.

"Probably because there's no blood," one DPG staff member had stated, as they had all watched the news and poured over the social media feeds.

Claire hadn't wanted to agree. She didn't like thinking that the public was so desensitized to the dinosaurs, that only blood would catch their interest. While she didn't show her agreement externally, internally she found herself nodding. It felt terrible that it would be easier to get the public on their side if the test _hadn't_ gone well and there'd been a bloody aftermath.

When it became clear that there wasn't a lot of damage control needed, she could've left early that night. Could've gone home, checked in with Maisie and made sure she was studying for her test. Instead, she found herself hesitant to leave. She was both happy and terrified that she'd mentioned the ring. It was a weight off her shoulders, but she wasn't sure she was actually ready to deal with the consequences. There really was some truth behind the statement that "ignorance is bliss."

As her guilt over hiding out at the office reached its peak and the hour because inexcusably late, she sent a brief text to Owen that she wasn't sure when she'd be home. It was a cop out, and she knew it. When Zia asked her why she was hanging around and not at home, Claire just shrugged her shoulders and said she had work to do, before heading into her office and closing the door. She knew that was going to raise another conversation she didn't want to have. At least for now, with her door closed, she'd be able to get a few hours to herself. Maybe she could figure out what she should do next.

x x x

Claire had finally given up at headquarters and arrived home just after one a.m. She had been both surprised and relieved to find Owen fast asleep in their bed. He was on his side, facing towards her pillow, one arm outstretched, as if reaching for her in his sleep. Her eyes had almost immediately landed on his wedding ring, back in its proper place. She knew she was supposed to feel relief that it was back, but its presence actually made her nauseous. As much as the absence had made her worried, its return did nothing to sooth her concerns. Was it back only because she'd said something?

She had stood silently at the foot of the bed, debating what to do. If she didn't go to bed, what kind of sign would she be sending? Could she convince him that she'd slept on the couch because she hadn't wanted to wake him? She didn't have that much faith in her own ability to lie. Owen, if nothing else, had always been able to see through her. It was part of what had made their first date, all those years ago, so awkward.

In the end, the decision was made for her, as Owen shifted on the bed, his eyes blinking open, causing her to freeze. It took a few moments before his gaze settled and focused on her. "Hey," he'd breathed out sleepily. "You're back. Everything okay?"

She nodded out of instinct, more than anything.

He shifted again, propping himself up on his elbow, peering at her closely. "Are you planning on coming to bed?"

She looked down and realized she was still fully dressed.

"Claire," Owen sighed, before moving until he was sitting up in bed, knees slightly bent. He leaned forward to rest his head in his hands, elbows propped on his legs. He took a deep breath, before raising his head to look at her. "I know things have been…" He trailed off, unsure what the right word was. Awkward? Tense? Uncomfortable? He decided to choose a different path. "I know we need to talk." She raised an eyebrow in question and he added, "about Maisie and cloning and the news and the dinosaurs."

"It's late," Claire dismissed his concerns, and moved away from the bed towards her dresser. If she didn't face him, she didn't have to think about the concern that was creasing his brow. Didn't have to think about the fact that he, too, was willing to push the real issue aside.

"I don't mean right now." His response was muffled, and she could tell without turning that he'd let his head fall back into his hands.

She pulled a pair of pyjama shorts and a t-shirt from her drawers, moving towards the master bath. Flicking on the light switch, she paused in the doorway, forcing herself to turn back towards Owen. He was still sitting up in bed, head in his hands. "We'll talk," she finally said, and almost immediately his head came up, eyes searching out hers.

"We've left things unsaid before," Owen reminded her. "I don't want to make the same mistake."

"We'll talk," she insisted. "But it's late. Go back to sleep. I don't think this is a conversation for the middle of the night."

She watched as he hesitated a moment, before he nodded. "I'm not going to let this drop," he murmured, as he stretched back out on the bed and pulled the comforter up, before turning on his side. "We really need to talk."

x x x

A few nights later, they were gathered at the dinner table having just finished eating and were sorting through everyone's schedule for the upcoming week. The tension at the table was at an all-time high, a feeling that was becoming increasingly common.

Owen, who had been trying to follow through on his promise, had been cornering Claire every chance he got, asking her when they could talk. He'd be unsuccessful so far, and every day that went by where they didn't talk, made him that much more antsy.

Claire, on the other hand, was no more eager to talk now than she had been that late night. Thankfully, between work and keeping up with regular obligations, her free time was scarce, and there was always an excuse. She knew she couldn't put him off forever. He was right – they did need to talk.

Maisie, for her part, had started to feel guilty about sneaking around on Twitter. Well, a little guilty. Mostly, she had questions about what she was reading, and she wasn't sure how to ask them, without having to admit to where she'd found the information.

Updating their family calendar was a regular activity. And something that, although Owen hadn't been all that excited about when Claire introduced it, helped keep them all sane. Knowing where people were supposed to be, and when, was really useful, especially when neither Claire nor Owen had a predictable schedule. The calendar helped them juggle their schedules, trying as hard as possible to make sure someone was always available for Maisie after school.

While technically Claire worked a job that was 9-5 Monday to Friday, her role as the head of the DPG meant being available to take meetings, attend events, and deal with the press at all hours. On top of that, dealing with issues that were often political while being based on the west coast, often meant really early meetings to accommodate politicians over in DC.

After the incident, Owen had not worked for the first couple of months, as they helped Maisie get settled and adjusted to her new life. On top of that, it was summer vacation, and they didn't feel like it would be right to drop her at a camp all week after everything that had just happened. Besides, with Owen moving back to the San Francisco area, he had to find a new job anyway. In the end, he took a job working construction for a friend. He worked as a contractor, and not a full-time employee, so that he could keep his schedule flexible enough that he was generally able to be home by the time Maisie finished school. However, as a result of needing to end his days early, he often ended up putting in hours on the weekends or late in the evening, once Claire was home. And, occasionally there were projects that needed to be completed in a single day that would require overtime.

Updating the calendar usually only took a few minutes to complete, with each family member providing individual updates. Maisie's schedule was largely predictable, but they had taken to adding information about project due dates and tests, after a particularly rough evening when Maisie came home from school having forgotten to study for a test. Owen had watched in wide-eyed fascination that evening as both Maisie and Claire were equally upset over it. Maisie had been almost wailing over how she was sure she'd failed it and how she was "so stupid." And Claire was beating herself up over how she was such a bad parent to not have known and helped Maisie prepare. Owen couldn't remember ever getting upset over a test in his life. It was him who suggested adding those details to the calendar. He hadn't wanted to go through another night like that again.

Tonight, giving updates seemed to drag on forever, as everyone seemed to be only half-paying attention, so details had to be repeated multiple times before they got corrected updated or added. They kept two copies of the calendar. There was a physical one that hung in the kitchen, that mainly Maisie and Owen used. And then Claire also kept one on her phone, since she was rarely not in arms reach of the device.

If they hadn't been updating the calendar, they wouldn't have caught the news when it broke, as they had a "no devices at the dinner table" rule. But, Claire's phone was in her hand, and none of them could ignore the incessant dings, as message after message suddenly started pouring in.

"What's going on?" Owen asked, sitting up from his slouched position in his chair.

"I'll look in a bit," Claire was still trying to add an event to her calendar, an action made harder by having to constantly swipe away the notices of the text messages.

"Something big must be going down," Owen insisted. "Your phone goes off a lot, but I don't think I've ever heard it this active. Was there another dinosaur field test?"

"Just give me a sec," Claire continued tapping away. "I just want to finish this before I forget."

"The last dino test didn't make this much news," Maisie commented. She had her arms folded across the table, her head resting on top, eyes tracing the grains of the tabletop. "Must be something else." She raised her eyes to Owen in challenge. This was a game they'd played before, guess the news, with each trying to outdo the other with ridiculous scenarios.

"I bet there are new _Triceratops_ babies," Owen suggested.

"Maybe some of the _Gallimimus_ ran off a cliff again," Maisie giggled, recalling the footage of when it had happened before.

"Someone managed to sneak onto the island and is hiding up a tree?" Owen added, also based on a previous scenario.

"And the _compys_ are circling below," Maisie laughed.

"I still don't think we've come up with something that would cause _that_ many messages," Owen hummed, looking thoughtful. "Oh, I know. An alien has been spotted on the island."

"No, not an alien," Maisie shook her head. "A _UFO_ and it's beaming up the dinosaurs."

"Hope they brought a big ship," Owen chuckled, Maisie laughing along. He glanced over at Claire, surprised she hadn't even attempted to join in. His laugh faded away at the serious expression on her face as she stared at her phone. When she started chewing on her bottom lip he knew it was bad. "What is it?"

"Someone's leaked to the press that Lockwood was working on human cloning."

Maisie also stopped laughing, a worried expression crossing her face. "Do they know about me?"

"No," Claire shook her head.

" _Working on_ ," Owen repeated. "That's not so bad, right? Doesn't mean they were successful."

"No, they _know_ they were successful. There are lab reports that are circling," Claire shook her head, gaze still focused on her phone, as she read through the news coming her way. "They're pretty heavily redacted, and from what Zia and I can tell, there's no information besides the fact that it was an area Lockwood worked on and that there was at least one success. Well, that's what we know–" Claire cut herself off, but Owen heard the unspoken words of "so far."

"What does this mean?" Maisie looked between the two, standing up from her seat and looking frantic. "Are they going to know it's me? What do I do?"

"Hey," Owen reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her towards him. She may be twelve, but she allowed him to pull her into his lap, taking the comfort he offered, tucking her head against his chest, as he wrapped his arms around her. "We're going to do everything we can to keep you out of the news." He caught Claire's wince at his comment. He knew she'd been expecting this news to break for a few weeks now. " _And_ , if we can't, we're going to be by your side through it all."

"Owen's right," Claire came around the table, squatting down to look Maisie in the eye. "We will do everything we can to protect you." She rested her hand on Maisie's shoulder. "For now, we'll take it a day at a time. All that's really out there is that there was, at some point, some success. They don't know who, or how old, or really any details."

Silence fell over the room, interrupted only by the occasional 'ding' that still came from Claire's phone. Maisie had closed her eyes, tucking herself into a smaller ball within Owen's embrace, while Claire and Owen shared a look of panic.

x x x

Later that night, after they had finally managed to convince Maisie to go to bed, they sat in the family room watching the news. Owen had the remote and was constantly flipping between the various news channels, trying to keep up with what everyone was reporting. Claire had her phone and laptop, and was continuing to scan the news websites and social media, trying to get a handle on how the news was being received. That, and constantly texting back and forth with Zia.

" _I don't know why this catches anyone by surprise_ ," a journalist stated. " _They were happy to mess around with dinosaurs' DNA, including making those monstrous hybrids. Why would anyone think that messing with human DNA would be crossing the line for them?_ "

Click, Owen changed the channel.

" _If human cloning has taken place, we have a right to know._ "

"Fuck that!" Owen said, before the channel changed again.

"– _an abomination. When will people learn that we're not supposed to mess with DNA?_ "

Click.

" _Remember what happened at Jurassic World? What happened just a few years ago in Northern California? Aren't these scientists ever going to learn? Like we need human monsters roaming around._ "

Click.

" _I've been saying this for years, but no one – no one ever wants to listen. Life is a long chain of cause and effect. And, you know, life finds a way._ "

Claire glanced up, taking in Ian Malcolm being interviewed. No surprise he'd managed to get himself on tv today.

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again, humans are an overrated species," Owen dropped the remote, scrubbing his hands against his face. "What is _fucking_ wrong with everyone?"

"People don't like the unknown," Claire just mumbled back, in the midst of an article.

"I don't get it. This _all_ started because someone wanted this science to be used to help his son," Owen gestured angrily at the tv, his voice rising as he spoke. "Everyone was all over that. Well, now it's coming out that research _was_ done on using some of the science learned to help humans and people are _mad_? You can't have it both ways!"

"Owen," Claire said his name in warning, her gaze darting from him towards the stairs.

Owen took a deep breath, following her gaze to the stairs, before looking at her and saying, "How do we keep it a secret? What can we do?"

"I don't think we can," Claire immediately held up a hand as Owen went to respond. "Let me repeat myself, I'm _not_ suggesting _we_ put the information out there. But I think we need to be realistic that it's going to come out."

"No," Owen shook his head. "I don't accept that."

"Well, it's not up to you," Claire reminded him. "There are documents floating around now. Sure, these one's don't give away much, but I doubt we've seen the last of them."

"Can't we sue them?" Owen asked, getting up and pacing the room. "There's got to be _something_ we can do."

"We are," Claire sighed. "We're taking care of Maisie. That's our job. Protect her. Love her. Stand by her."

"This just makes me so _mad_ ," Owen growled, dropping back down onto the couch, and grabbing the remote to turn the tv off. "Do you think we should keep her home tomorrow?"

"What?" Claire looked at him in surprise.

"Home. From school," Owen clarified. "She's been saying they've been talking about cloning at school. What if it comes up?"

"There's nothing out there that links all of this to Mais," Claire shook her head. "I think it'll look worse if we keep her home."

"We can say she's got the flu," Owen shrugged. "Kids get sick all the time."

"The timing won't look good," Claire disagreed. "It's not like they don't know that she's Lockwood's granddaughter. Even if we _had_ been able to hide that, everyone knows that we're her parents."

"You mean guardians," Owen said darkly, staring at the ground.

"No, parents. The adoption might not be finalized, but we're still her parents," Claire reached out a hand, resting it lightly on Owen's arm, and he lifted his head to look at her. " _We are_."

"All of this," Owen waved an arm wearily around the room, "is just going to set us back even farther."

"The adoption's almost over. We'll be fine."

x x x

"Okay, everyone, settle down, settle down," Mr. Reynolds, Maisie's 7th grade science teacher, stood at the front of the room, trying to contain the chaos. "Come on everyone, in your seats."

Normally, this was Maisie's favourite class of the day. She had always loved science, and having grown up at the Lockwood Estate, she'd been surrounded by many cutting-edge researchers. Her grandfather (she hadn't figured out anything else to call him) had shared his own enthusiasm with her. Meals and afternoons were often spent discussing new science news or trying out small scale experiments. But today, well really, the whole past few weeks, had started to sour her on the class.

Her favourite part of the class had always been that Mr. Reynolds would start each lesson by mentioning something new that had been recently discovered or learned in the world of science. Maisie and her classmates would often compete to supply the topic of the day, darting into the class early to give their suggestions to Mr. Reynolds. If he selected it, the student would get a chance to introduce the topic, before the class would have a short discussion on it. Afterwards, they'd move on to the days lesson. But, with all the cloning news, the daily news tidbits seemed to always be cloning focused, and she was getting sick of it. She found herself being more careful with what she said. Normally, she participated in these discussions with abandon, full of thoughts and opinions she wanted to share. Now, she found herself almost always sitting with her arms folded on her desk, head resting on top, and waiting for it to be over. She was in that position now, already counting down the minutes until the actual lesson would start.

"Okay, Lucas, you want to do the honours today?" Maisie listened to Mr. Reynolds, already half tuning out the conversation.

"Sure Mr. Reynolds," Lucas jumped out of his seat. "Last night, news broke that Lockwood was working on _human_ cloning! It's no longer just an idea. I heard people on the radio this morning saying that he _made clones_! That they may be," here Lucas paused dramatically, before finishing, "walking among us."

The classroom immediately erupted in noise, as everyone started chattering excitedly.

"Whoa, whoa," Mr. Reynolds held his hands up. "C'mon, you know how this works. One at a time." He looked around the classroom, settling on a girl at the back. "Ana?"

"Maisie, _you're_ a Lockwood, did you know your grandfather was doing this?" Ana's comments had everyone's gaze swinging towards her.

Maisie had only been half paying attention, so the sudden attention of all her classmates had her looking up at them confused. "What?"

"Yeah, _you're_ a Lockwood," another boy repeated. "What do _you_ know about the cloning your grandfather did?"

Maisie sat up straighter in her chair, gaze darting between her classmates. What was she supposed to say?

"Okay, that's enough," Mr. Reynolds stepped forward. "Maisie is not her grandfather and can't be expected to know everything he did. She was only 9 when he died."

The comment started off helpful, but Maisie felt anger rising in her at his remark about her age. She knew lots about what had happened in that house. Although, fair enough, she hadn't known about the _Indoraptor_ until too late. And she may not have known that she was a clone before her grandfather died. But, that didn't mean she knew _nothing_.

"C'mon Maisie," more classmates joined the taunting. The questions came fast: "What did you know?" "Did you see any clones?" "Were there babies in jars?" " _Jackson!_ " "There's _always_ things in jars in the movies." "Do you know who he cloned?"

Again, Mr. Reynolds stepped in. "This isn't gossip period. Let's stick to our discussion topic, which is that there is evidence that human cloning has taken place. What questions do you have," he raised a hand to keep the class silent, "that are on topic and not for Maisie."

"I heard a clone is like a twin," a female classmate spoke up. "Is that true?"

"Well, yes and no," Mr. Reynolds replied, taking a seat on the edge of a table by the window. "There are multiple types of twins. But _identical_ twins, do share some commonalities with clones. Like clones, they are created from the same genetic material. _Unlike_ clones, identical twins form naturally and develop simultaneously. Cloning focuses on trying to reproduce, or _replicate_ , something that already exists."

"Trying to reproduce," Jackson echoed Mr. Reynolds. "Does that mean that it doesn't?"

"Well, the idea of a clone is to be a perfect copy. And I don't know the science that they managed to achieve, but when it comes to animals that have been cloned, so far, what they've managed to make are what I'd call _comparable_ copies. They aren't identical, as there are a _lot_ of variables that come into play. But they are close enough to being identical that we use the word clone to describe them."

Maisie found herself listening attentively to Mr. Reynolds. This was the first time she'd really heard someone try to explain it at a level she could understand. She found herself joining the conversation. "I've heard people say that clones aren't _real_ people because they're a copy. But if you're saying they're not a _true_ copy, does that make them their own person?"

"That's an interesting question Maisie," Mr. Reynolds paused, thinking it over. "I think that's where this becomes less of a science question and more of a moral or ethical debate. For some people, their religion or xenophobia informs their view on this, and they have a difficult time accepting this avenue of science. But for others, it doesn't matter how someone came into being once they're here."

x x x

"Hey."

Claire looks up to see Zia standing in her doorway, leaning against the door frame. "What's up?"

Zia moved inside, closing the door behind her, before dropping into a chair. "I just wanted to check in. See how you were doing."

"Me? I'm fine."

Zia just gave her a probing look. "Come on Claire, I know you better than that. All this news? The cloning stuff. I'm sure you've been obsessing over it."

Claire pushed her laptop aside and turned to face Zia. "I'm fine. It hasn't come out yet."

"You know it will."

"Yeah," Claire sighed. "Try convincing Owen of that."

"He actually thinks it's going to stay a secret?" Zia looked surprised. Owen was much to practical, in her mind, for that.

"He's working hard at convincing himself it will," Claire admitted. "I don't think he wants to face reality on this."

"Well, you can't blame him," Zia shrugged. "I mean, the longer it _can_ stay a secret…"

"I'm not suggesting we tell anyone," Claire groaned. "Why does everyone think that?"

"I wasn't saying you were," Zia raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Are things… okay?"

"Didn't we just go over this?" Claire grabbed her coffee mug off her desk and took a sip only to find it cold. She put the cup back down on her desk and grabbed a pen to fiddle with instead.

"Yes," Zia nodded, before pausing. "I mean no. Sort of. I'm not talking about the cloning news. Are things okay with you and–" She cut herself off on Claire's glare and raised her hands in surrender. "Okay, fine, we won't go there."

Claire sighed, before giving her friend a small smile. "Thanks. I'm not even ready to talk to Owen about it."

"Well, you know I'm always here," Zia smiled, before becoming serious. "We _should_ talk about Maisie though. You and Owen need a plan. And the DPG is going to get asked about it too."

"I know," Claire pulled a pad of paper closer to her. "I haven't been able to come up with anything. I wish I could just wrap her in bubble wrap and it'd all go away. But, since we can't… want to help me brainstorm?"

"Sure," Zia settled back in her chair, watching as Claire started jotting down ideas.

x x x

"What does it matter anyway?" Jackson rolled his eyes. "Like you said, a clone's just a copy. Like a movie sequel. Everyone _knows_ the original is always the best."

"Just shut up! Shut up!" Maisie didn't know when she stood up. But she was standing now, yelling from her spot behind her desk.

"Maisie!" Mr. Reynolds stated sharply, reprimanding her as he too rose to his feet. But it was too late and she was on a roll.

"No, you guys don't get it. You don't know what it's like. It's not theoretical. It's a real person. _I'm_ a real person," she paused, before whispering. "It doesn't make me less real."

There were a few gasps across the classroom, before the room fell silent. Then, almost too quietly to be heard, (well, too quietly to be heard in a normal classroom but not one this silent), a voice said: "You're what?"

The next few minutes were a blur. But when her vision came back into focus, Maisie found herself on her bike, pedaling frantically away from her school. She was surprised to feel the weight of her backpack on her back. Her cheeks felt cold, and when she raised a hand to them, she found them wet, tears still streaming down her face.

She lowered her head and pedaled harder, mind focused on one goal – getting home.

* * *

 _Thanks so much to everyone who leaves a review. They really make my day and help me keep my motivation up to continue this. I've got the whole story now mapped out, so it's just a matter of writing the rest of it._

 _Things are about to get a bit worse for Claire and Owen, but I promise this is a Clawen story._


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Owen was surprised when his phone rang. He had it attached to his work belt, but it rarely rang during the day. He would prefer to leave it in his truck but having a kid who might need to reach him during the day had meant trying to remember to keep it close.

The name of the school on the display worried him. While he had reluctantly agreed with Claire that sending Maisie to school was the right thing to do, and Maisie hadn't shown any signs of _not_ wanting to go, he'd still been concerned. And seeing the schools name just ratcheted his concern up higher. He was already starting to put his tools away before he even answered.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this Mr. Grady?" he recognized the voice of the school receptionist.

"Yes. What happened?" Owen was not willing to waste time on pleasantries.

"There was an… incident. In Maisie's science class," the receptionist admitted.

"An _incident_?" Owen questioned. The incidents that have happened in his life have usually resulted in people dying and dinosaurs wreaking havoc. He took a deep breath. "What do you mean by that? Is Maisie okay?"

"Well…"

"What do you mean ' _well_ '?" Owen barked into the phone. He looked around for his friend and boss. When he finally managed to catch his eye, he pointed to his phone and then his truck. Thankfully, his friend got it and waved him away and Owen headed straight for his truck.

"Apparently, things got a little heated in the class, and, well…" the receptionist squeaked out.

"Just spit it out," Owen growled.

"She ran away from the school. We couldn't stop her."

"She's 12!" Owen was already pulling out of his parking spot. "What do you mean you couldn't stop a 12-year-old girl! Where did she go?"

"We're not exactly sure," he could tell through the phone that the receptionist was wincing. And he could hear Claire's voice in his head reprimanding him that it was not _her_ fault. She was just the messenger.

"Did she take her bike?" Owen asked. When the receptionist confirmed, he let out a bit of a sigh. Yes, it meant she could travel faster and farther. But he took it to mean she hadn't left in a complete panic. He hung up after saying he'd find her, immediately dialing Maisie's phone. When she didn't answer, he pulled over and used the app Claire had insisted on that let him locate her phone. (He generally found it creepy and had never used it before, but he had never been more grateful that he had it.) He watched as her phone showed up moving down the street towards their home, and he let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding. Putting the truck back in gear, he left his worksite.

x x x

Claire had started the day with a headache. Things with Owen were still not good. Even after their civil conversation the night before, she had found herself going to bed (and waking up) alone. It had been a struggle to get Maisie out the door on time, the girl dragging her feet. She hadn't actually asked to _not_ go to school, and so Claire hadn't raised it as an option, and neither had Owen. Because of Maisie, she'd been late out the door herself, and didn't have time to pick up her normal Caveman Coffee on her way to the DPG headquarters. The elevators continued their fun of randomly deciding when (and when not) to fully open the doors, and the coffee machine was broken in the break room.

She should've known things were only going to get worse.

The unexpected knock on her door as she and Zia are attempting to brainstorm solutions made her groan. Her instinct was to tell them to go away, but she fought it back, and instead told them to come in, Zia leaning back to pull the door open. It was Franklin and he looked even more uncomfortable than usual.

"I wouldn't be interrupting you if it wasn't important," Franklin said, holding a tablet protectively in front of him. He barely entered the room.

"I know," Claire sighed. "What's going on now?"

"There's been another paper dump," he admitted before hesitantly handing over his tablet. "You need to see this."

"Do I want to?" Claire asked, but she was pulling the tablet in front of her, gaze already starting to skim the documents. Zia leaned forward so she could look alongside Claire.

"While the leaked docs don't come out and _say_ it's Maisie, it's… well, it won't take much work for people to figure it out," Franklin sighed. He watched as Claire scrolled through the document and knew the moment it hit her.

It was Zia who said something first, "Um, calling the 'subject' ML42 wasn't a great choice if they were trying to hide her identity."

Claire let the tablet drop, her hands sliding through her hair, before her elbows fall to the desk, hands clutching the back of her neck. "No kidding. ML. Really? They couldn't at least come up with something a little more arbitrary? How about CF82J. Literally _anything_ would've been better."

Franklin waited a moment, before adding softly, "that's not even the worse part."

"It gets worse?" Claire, again, was reaching for the tablet before she even finished asking the question.

"There's documents that detail… well let's call them the setbacks," Franklin winced.

"Detail?"

"Yeah," he sighed again. "Maisie is …" he trailed off but couldn't find a better word for what he had to say. "Maisie is… _version_ 42."

"Shit," again, the tablet clattered to the desktop. Both Franklin and Zia's heads snapped towards Claire in surprise. They had known Claire for years now, and they had almost never heard her swear. "God dammit," Claire followed up with, her hands clenched into fists. She stood up and started pacing the small area. "When I get my hands on–"

She never finished, as the phone rang, interrupting her. She didn't pay it any mind, continuing to pace. When it immediately started ringing again, she gave it a glance. Owen's name on the screen stopped her, and she snapped it up, documents forgotten.

"What happened?" she barked into the phone, greetings ignored. Zia and Franklin watched with interest.

"She ran away from school," Owen sighed.

"She _what_?!" Claire practically shrieked into the phone. She paused, took a deep breath, and then repeated, slightly calmer. "She did _what_?" She looked over at Franklin and Zia, and held up a hand, asking them to wait.

"She ran away."

"Where is she?" Claire collapsed back in her chair, her free hand going to her chest. It felt like her heart was about to beat itself right out of her chest.

"At home."

"Are you with her?"

"I just pulled into the driveway," Owen admitted. "The school called me, and then I tracked her phone."

"Are you sure she didn't just leave it at home?" Claire asked, as Maisie hasn't been all that great at remember to take her phone with her. As much as she had wanted one, she seemed annoyed by actually having it. She took after Owen in that regard.

"Yeah, when I first looked her up on it, it was moving along the street. It's stopped here and I can see her bike," Owen paused. "I'm going to go talk to her. I just… I just wanted you to know."

"I'll be right there," Claire replied.

"You don't need to–"

Claire cut him off before he could finish. "More documents got leaked. I'm betting the news reporters are going to beat me there. I'm on my way." She hung up before he could reply. She searched her desk for her car keys and wallet, before turning to Zia and Franklin. "I've got to go – Maisie ran away from school. Things are going to get… bad."

x x x

After hanging up with Claire, Owen turned off the engine and just sat for a moment, parked in the driveway. As much as he was glad that Maisie was safe, he was not looking forward to the conversation ahead. He had been lucky and had managed to avoid most of the awkward / deep conversations with Maisie. Okay, it wasn't _completely_ luck – he was pretty good at avoidance and had gotten especially good at gently pushing Maisie towards Claire during those moments.

But, he was the only one there now, and he knew it was all on him. Although, for a moment, he does debate waiting for Claire to arrive. But with the way everything has been going between them, he knew if he was still sitting out there in the truck when she pulled up there would be hell to pay. He did give himself a moment to call the school and let them know he found her. But it took less than 30 seconds, and then he was left staring at the house.

Exiting the truck, he headed around to the backyard. He _knew_ she wouldn't be inside. Whenever Maisie got upset and wanted to think, she inevitably retreated to her treehouse. He didn't know what it was about the treehouse, but something drew her in, and it had become her refuge, the way the garage was his.

As he neared the base, he could hear muffled sobs from above, and he took a deep breath. The treehouse was designed and built for a young girl, not a fully grown male. On the plus side, he could just reach up and knock on the trap door, letting Maisie know he was there. "Maisie," he called out. "Can I come up?"

There were a few long moments of silence and he could hear her trying to suppress her tears. "C'mon kiddo," he knocked again. "Can you let me in?"

Another few moments passed before the trap door slowly slid open. He couldn't see her, but he took it for an invitation, and squeezed his way up the rope ladder and through the tiny hatch. He really should've made the entrance bigger.

Once inside, Maisie took one look at him, before she launched herself towards him, tears streaming down her cheeks. It took him a moment to make out what she was saying, the words mumbled and mixed in with her sobs. "I told them. I told them it was me. I didn't mean to. But I told them."

"Oh kiddo," Owen gathered her into his arms, leaning back against the wall. After the incident, Maisie had never been big on asking for physical affection. She would take it when offered (and she'd even offer it herself) but she shied away from being the one to reach out. Owen, and to an extent Claire, were both physically affectionate people and both were always quick to offer a hug. There had been nights, where Maisie would wake up from a nightmare, and Owen would sit on her bed, leaning back against the headboard as he was against the wall now. He'd pull her into his lap, and she'd somehow manage to make herself so small, that it felt like she disappeared within his arms. It had been well over a year, probably two, since that had last happened. But now, he could feel her scrunching herself up, trying to disappear. "It's going to be okay. It will be, I promise." As he felt her shoulders heave from her sobs, he glanced down at the open trap door and hoped Claire would join them soon.

x x x

Claire managed to beat the reporters to the house, but barely. She was just getting out of her car as the first news van pulled up. She purposefully ignored them and headed inside the house. She moved quickly through the first floor, drawing all the curtains and lowering blinds, before repeating her actions on the floor above. Once she was satisfied, she headed out back to the treehouse.

She wasn't surprised to find the trapdoor open, and she could hear soft whispering coming from above, as she climbed her way up and in. Inside she found Owen leaning against the wall, Maisie in his lap, eyes closed and hands clutching tightly to his shirt. It was Owen she had heard, who seemed to be whispering soothing words, as his hand rubbed Maisie's back.

"Hey," Claire said softly, moving across the floor to sit next to Owen, her hand reaching out and joining his on Maisie's back.

At the sound of her voice, Maisie's eyes popped open, her gaze moving to Claire. Upon confirmation of Claire's presence, she practically flung herself towards her, and Claire caught her in a hug. "Hey Mais," she whispered to the girl.

"I didn't mean to," Maisie cried, voice breaking through hiccups, as she buried her head against Claire's shoulder.

"Didn't mean to?" Claire repeated back as a question, her gaze darting to Owen. He mouthed back that she had told her class, and Claire winced briefly. Lifting her hand to Maisie's head, she gave a couple of strokes, before she used both hands to gently push against Maisie's shoulders, trying to catch her gaze. "Maisie? Mais, listen to me," Claire called out softly. "It doesn't matter. It was going to come out anyway, it's fine. It's going to be fine."

"They said I was just a bad sequel," Maisie cried. At this, both Owen and Claire exchanged confused looks. A _what_? Before they could say anything, Maisie continued, "that I'm just a copy and not as good as the original."

This time, both Claire and Owen gave a collective wince. "We've talked about this," Claire said softly. "Being a clone doesn't make you less of _anything_. You are _you_."

"I shouldn't be here," Maisie's hands are clenched in fists, and she beats them lightly against Claire's chest.

Owen reached over and gently grasped her hands, stopping the movement. "How you got here," Owen stated, "doesn't change anything, except give you a great origin story." He gave her a small smile. "And we all know that the origin stories are what make superheroes."

When he managed to get the smallest hint of a smile, his own grin grew wider, and he letsher hands drop. He looked at Claire but wasn't all that surprised by the serious look on her face.

"We really need to move this inside," Claire sighed. "I _just_ beat the reporters here. I don't think it'll take long before some brave coming around back."

"Reporters?" Maisie practically stuttered on the word. "My school told _reporters_?"

"No," Claire shook her head. "It's just unfortunate timing. More news was leaked today, and it doesn't take much to connect the dots. The code name… _your_ code name," Claire winced at her wording, "was ML42. And that's been leaked."

"Oh," Maisie didn't know how to react.

"C'mon," Claire nudged her gently. "Let's get inside. We can talk about it more there."

Owen headed out of the treehouse first and made a show of acting like he couldn't fit through the trap door, which did help raise the mood slightly.

However, as they enter the house Claire stopped them when Owen and Maisie moved to open the curtains. As she softly said, "reporters," the somewhat lighthearted mood that had been emerging disappeared and a somber one took over.

x x x

Claire hadn't thought the tension in the house could get any higher. But with the reporters out front having trapped the three of them inside going on 48 hours now, she was being proven wrong. And if things weren't bad enough, she'd just got a call from the adoption lawyer. The last thing she wanted to share with them was more bad news.

"Hey," she entered the family room where Owen and Maisie were slouched on the couch watching a movie. The two of them barely moved in acknowledgement. She waited a second, and when they continued to ignore her, she grabbed the remote, pausing the movie.

"Hey!" Owen looked up, indignant.

"What did you do that for?" Maisie also looked up.

"I've got some bad news," Claire winced. Not the best start to what she had to say.

" _More_ bad news?" Maisie's shoulders slumped.

"How is that possible?" Owen added. "Hasn't this week been bad enough?"

"I just got off the phone with our lawyer," Claire started.

"No. No no no! NO!" Owen was already shaking his head. "Not that too."

"I'm sorry," Claire said weakly.

"What?" Maisie looked between them. "What did the lawyer say? What's happening?"

Claire walked over, sitting down on the coffee table in front of Maisie. She reached out and grasped Maisie's hands lightly. "Because of the public outcry, the judge has put a pause on the adoption paperwork."

"What?!" Maisie was standing before Claire finished. "I'm not getting adopted?"

"Temporary. It's just temporary," Claire tried to reassure her. "Just until the news about everything dies down."

"What if it doesn't?" Maisie cried out. "What if they decide because I'm a clone I don't deserve par–" she cut herself off. "What if they decide that I don't deserve a family? That I'm a… a _lab rat_. Lab rats don't have families. They have scientists."

Claire looked helplessly over at Owen, begging him with a look to join the conversation. She could see his hands were clenched in fists, anger radiating off him.

"That's not going to happen, Mais," Claire shook her head.

"I should just live locked in my room," Maisie huffed, too far gone down the path to hear Claire. "It's the same thing as a cage. Lab rats live in cages. Might as well get used to it now. You can just call me ML42 and feed me through a hole in the door."

"You're not a lab rat," Claire protested. "You're not going to be living in a cage. We'd never let that happen."

"Like you could stop them," Maisie scoffed in disbelief.

"You'd be surprised what we can and _will_ do," Owen disagreed, finally joining in. "As you're mom and dad we're not–"

"You're not my da–" Maisie interrupted, correcting herself mid-sentence. "You're not my parents!"

"We're trying to be," Claire pleaded. "We can be. We _want_ to be."

"I _hate_ you! This is all your fault!" Maisie yelled back, before pulling away from Claire and running from the room. They listen to her fly up the stairs before they heard her bedroom door slam shut, and the two of them collectively winced.

"Well," Owen took a deep breath, "that went well."

"Thanks for your help," Claire said sarcastically, before following Maisie's path, heading towards the stairs.

"What did I do?" Owen followed after her.

"What did you _do_?" Claire swung around to face him. "God Owen. Would it have killed you to support me in there? It sucks. I get it. But it sucks for _all_ of us. Not just Maisie. And not just you."

Off his shocked look, she turned back around and headed up the stairs. Approaching Maisie's bedroom door, she knocked on it before waiting for a response. She repeated herself a couple more times, ignoring Owen coming up behind her. When Maisie still doesn't respond, she tried the handle, but was unsurprised to find it locked.

"Maisie? Mais, please let me in," Claire called out, as she knocked again. "Mais, I just want to see you're okay," Claire added after a few moments of silence, leaning against the door.

After a pause, Owen repeated her, "Kiddo, can you at least tell us you're okay?"

"Leave me alone!" Claire looked slightly relieved by the response, while Owen relaxed completely.

"Mais…" Claire called out again.

"You heard her, she wants to be alone," Owen turned to Claire, gesturing away from the door.

"I just want to see that she's okay."

"Of course she's not okay. How could anyone be okay? _I'm_ not okay," Owen looked at her in disbelief.

"That's not what I mean," Claire sighe.

"She just needs some time."

"But we're her _parents_ ," Claire shook her head, before turning back towards the door. "Maisie?"

"You're not my parents! Clone's don't have parents," Maisie's angry reply came through immediately, and Claire winced, realizing that Maisie was listening to them.

"See what you did now?" Owen hissed at her.

Claire glared back, but replied to Maisie, "Can you please just unlock the door. We don't have to come in. I just don't want you in there with the door locked."

"Just let her be," Owen scoffed.

"I don't want to see you," Maisie called out.

"You don't have to," Claire continued to ignore Owen. "Just unlock the door. We'll break it down if you don't."

"Are you crazy?" Owen's now looking at Claire like she's insane.

"She's 12 and she's locked in a room. Don't you think we should be concerned?" It was Claire's turn to hiss at Owen.

"Exactly. She's 12. She knows how to unlock a door," Owen rolled his eyes. "Just give her some space. Not everyone wants you to fix everything. You're so over protective."

"Over protective? Over protective! You do remember we found her while being chased by _dinosaurs_ , right?"

"And she survived that. She can spend a night locked in her room."

"I just want to see her," Claire sighed, before turning back to the door. "Maisie?"

"Go away," Maisie was clearly sobbing now, and Claire felt worse.

"This wouldn't be happening if you'd just kept quiet," Owen glareed at her.

"Me!? What did I do? I didn't _tell_ everyone it was her. _I_ didn't stop the adoption. All I've been trying to do is keep her safe."

"Shouldn't have told them she was a clone," Owen grumbled.

"We knew it was going to come out at some point, better we brought it up at the start."

"And you're the reason there's a record!" Owen's looking at her angrily now.

"And you agreed!"

"Well I shouldn't have."

"It doesn't matter anyway, that record didn't change anything," Claire dismissed him. "It's the fault of whoever's been leaking the lab reports."

"Right, always shifting the blame," Owen rolled his eyes, turning away from her, ready to head back down the hall. He paused mid step when he heard the deep sigh from Claire.

"We can't keep having this same fight," Claire whispered.

"Well, if you would just accept some of the blame, then we wouldn't have to."

"That's right, it's all my fault. Everything is _my_ fault," Claire said with disbelief, before shaking her head. "If I'm that much of a disappointment, Owen, why are you still here?"

"Oh, so you're admitting it now. You _want_ me to leave." Owen turned back to look at her.

"As if you've needed an excuse to leave before."

"I thought we were a family," Owen took a step towards her. "That we _are_ a family."

"Yeah, me too," Claire's gaze fell to the floor. She was not sure how they ended up where they were, how _this_ was the conversation they were having now. Their emotions were running high and she knew it was not the right time. But she couldn't seem to stop it.

"If you didn't want this…" Owen trailed off, his gaze was on Claire, but she was still staring at the ground. He twisted his wedding ring uncomfortably. "We didn't have to do this… you know." He paused again, before pulling the ring off. "There were other options," he whispered sadly. At that comment, Claire finally looked up, meeting his gaze. "Here." He reached his hand out and Claire accepted what he was offering by instinct. It was not until her fist closed around the object, that she realized it was his wedding ring.

She looked down at the ring in her hand, shocked. _When_ had things got this bad? As she stared at the ring all she could think was " _he doesn't want me_." By the time she pulled it together to look up again, Owen had disappeared down the stairs and out of sight. She was torn and not sure what to do – follow after Owen or stay there with Maisie. She took a couple of steps towards the stairs, when she realized she could still hear sobbing coming from Maisie's room, and she's pulled back towards the door.

"Mais?" Claire knocked again.

x x x

Maisie could hear Claire still knocking against her door and calling out her name. She didn't know what to do. She heard her dad… heard Owen. Heard him tell Claire that they hadn't had to do this. That if _Claire_ didn't want her… that they had other options.

She had heard of panic attacks. She'd seen people gasping into paper bags on tv shows and in movies. But she had never really understood what they were. Had never felt like there was a weight sitting on her chest, making it hard to breathe. She was slumped against her door, hand clutching at her chest, eyes wide in panic.

They didn't want her. Claire didn't want her. Her _mom_ didn't want her. Claire was even driving her dad away. She shouldn't be here. She was making everything worse. If they didn't want her to be, she didn't _need_ to be. The adoption wasn't happening. She was right. They weren't her parents. She didn't _have_ parents. She didn't even have a _family_.

She lurched away from the door, mind spiralling. But a plan was forming. If she was not wanted, she was not going to stay there. She picked up her backpack, unzipping it and turning it over, letting everything fall onto her bed. She looked around her room, not sure what to start with. Her eyes landed on a notepad, and she picked it up and started scribbling a list. A little while later, satisfied with what she wrote, she started packing, checking the items off one by one. Her grandfather's photo album. Her journal. PJs. A change of clothes. All the money in her piggy bank and her lunch money from her pencil case. She added her emergency debit card. And then her phone, before looking down at her list for the next item.

x x x

Claire woke with a start, and realized she'd fallen asleep against Maisie's door. A quick glance at her wrist shows it's only been about 20 minutes. With a sigh, she reached up and tried the door handle again, but it was still locked. Listening intently, she realized she could no longer hear crying from within the room.

She raised her hand and knocked against the door, calling out "Mais" as she did so. Unsurprising, there was still silence. She knocked again, "Mais, please. Just say _something_."

Claire was startled when she heard movement behind the door and she stood up, facing it. The door opened just enough for Maisie to glare out at her.

"You know, you didn't have to keep me. I would've been fine with Iris," Maisie stated with surprising calm. "If I'm such a disappointment… If you didn't want me… You should've just left me there that night." Claire was staring at Maisie with her eyes wide, but before she could even react, the door slammed shut and she heard the lock click into place again.

She reached for the door, even knowing it was futile. "Maisie," Claire called out, slumping back against the door, tears already streaming down her cheeks. "Mais, I've _always_ wanted you. I love you so much. I hope you know that. I… I'm going to stay right here. When you're ready to talk, I'll be here. Please Mais," Claire slid down the door, her hands clenching into fists, a sob rising in her throat that she tried to hold back.

She was surprised by the feel of metal in her left hand, and she opened it, revealing Owen's ring. She'd already forgotten about it. How had the night fallen apart so terribly? As she leaned against Maisie's bedroom door and stared at the ring, she could no longer keep the sobs back, her back shaking, as she hunched over her bent knees.

x x x

Maisie paced her room. She could hear Claire outside her door, crying, but she refused to let it bother her. It was Claire's fault, not hers. She didn't ask to be made. She didn't ask for Claire and Owen to come to her aid that night. She didn't ask them to keep her.

She's packed, but she's not sure where to go. She can't go to her friends. Their parents would tell Claire and Owen in a heartbeat. Besides, none of them would understand what she's going through. The thought makes her give a brief hysterical laugh – _no one_ understands what she's going through.

She wished she could go to the cabin. She loved the quiet and peacefulness of being out in the woods, away from most people. But she didn't know how she'd get there. There were no buses that ran nearby as it was pretty isolated.

She stopped in front of her bulletin board. It was covered in an array of pictures and mementos. The ticket stub from her first movie. Pictures of her with the Golden Gate bridge in the background. One of her helping Owen on the construction of the cabin. Another of her and Claire, faces covered in green face-mask goop. There are pictures from birthday parties. Of her and her friends. From camping trips and Disneyland. Her gaze swept across a picture from their last visit to Madison. She's laughing, surrounded by Zach and Gray, Karen and her fiancé Jake, and Claire and Owen.

She grabbed her iPad, pulling up google maps. How far away _was_ Madison? When they had visited in the past, they always took a plane. But she knew she wouldn't be able to pull that off on her own. As she looked at the results, her shoulders sank. A bus would cost over $150 and take over 2 days. The train wasn't any cheaper. Or faster. There goes that option.

Her eyes return to the picture and zero in on Gray's shirt – CalTech. That's right, he was actually in California now for his freshman year. She searched again. While 12 hours on a bus didn't sound ideal, the $20 price tag sealed the deal. The next bus didn't leave until early morning, and it would take her just over an hour to get to the bus stop. She had some time.

Her gaze swept over the bulletin board again, this time landing on a picture of her with Claire and Owen. A "family" photo. She pulled it free from the board, staring at it intently. It was from only a few months ago and they all looked so happy. Owen had one arm wrapped around Claire, his other hand resting on Maisie's shoulder. He, like Maisie, had been caught mid laugh. Claire was leaning heavily against Owen, her gaze focused on him, with a large smile on her face.

For a second, the photo caused a surge of rage. She realized she was about to rip it in two but stopped herself. She moved back to her backpack and tucked it carefully inside her journal, before zipping the backpack closed.

A glance at her phone showed there were still a few hours before she needed to leave. She decided to set the alarm on her phone to wake her in a couple of hours.

With her plan set, she could feel her shoulders relaxing. She could do this.

* * *

 _Thanks everyone who continues to read, give kudos or review this story. I'm really happy that people are joining me on this angst driven ride._

 _x_

 _I did want to try something new at the end. I thought it might be fun to recommend some of my other favourite JW authors, in case you're looking for someone else to check out._

 _I'm going to start with **Elise-Collier**. She's been so instrumental in helping me with this fic, talking through plot points, providing advice and suggestions, helping with edits, and making sure I don't mess anything up too badly._

 _If you like character and angst driven clawen stories, definitely check out her stories_ Catch and Release _(probably my favourite) and_ The Mark _. Both are fun journeys that will have you rooting for them, while also shaking your head at their very real behaviour._

 _She's also currently writing a really cool AU story,_ Echtra _, that takes place in medieval Scotland/Ireland/England. I'm continually blown away by how many JW references she manages to get in, and there have been some super shocking twists._

 _So, drop a review below (please) and then go check out her work (and leave her a review and some kudos)._


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

It was not until he reached the bottom of the stairs, that what he just did started to sink in. He was so angry, so hurt, and so confused. He was not sure what to think or how to feel. Part of him wanted to scream. Another, a bigger part, wanted to punch something.

He gave her his ring.

He gave her _his ring_.

 _Oh god_ , he gave her his ring.

He was pacing the living room, but there was not enough space. The energy was building and he needed an outlet. Wanted to sprint as fast and as far as his body would let him. Wanted to _fight_ someone or some _thing_ (where's Hoskins when you need him?).

Pain in his left hand made him look down, and he realized he had got both hands clenched so tightly in fists, that his nails, even though he kept them short, were biting into the skin of his palm, knuckles white. He forced himself to release them. Started taking deep breaths and counting, in and out, as he continued to pace.

Going for a run, his preferred option, was out, what with the reporters still surrounding their place. And there's no one and nothing to fight. Not here, not at home.

 _Home_. Oh god. It felt like someone (himself?) had stabbed him with a knife. Is this still his home? It is. It has to be. She wouldn't… No. He refused to let his mind go down that path. This was still their house. _Their_ family. It was just a bump on the road. Everyone has those, right?

His fists were clenched again, and his breathing was becoming ragged. He really needed an outlet.

It was a testament to how fractured his thoughts were, that it took him that long to remember the home "gym" set up in the garage. It wasn't much – a weight bench, a pull up bar, and a treadmill. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he was lacing up his running shoes. He turned on the treadmill, ignoring his normal warm up, and just kept his finger on the button upping the speed. Soon he was sprinting, but it still didn't feel like enough. He hand moved over to the incline button, and he pushed that up as well.

Finally, his lungs started to burn, sweat pouring down his face, and he felt like he was going to pass out. Grabbing weakly for the emergency stop button, he barely stayed on as it slowed to a stop. He was bent over, panting, desperately trying to catch his breath, and choosing to pretend it was only sweat sliding down his cheeks. When he managed to look up, the screen on the treadmill was blinking at him: 6 minutes 32 seconds. He choked on the hysterical laugh that tried to emerge. Was that it?

He stumbled off the treadmill, grabbing at a towel from a stack on the side (thanks to the ever organized Claire), rubbing it roughly over his face, before sinking down onto the weight bench. He rested his elbows on his knees, face in his hands. He needed to pull it together.

He needed to figure out what he wanted.

Three and a half years ago, that question seemed so simple. To build his cabin. To do odd jobs. To stay far away from anything to do with dinosaurs.

Three years ago, the question still seemed simple, if a little more complex. For him and Claire and Maisie to be a family. To survive the recapturing and resettlement of the dinosaurs. To not let anyone find out about Maisie's true origins.

Six months ago, the question became hard. Sure, he still wanted his family. And he no longer thought about Maisie's origins. In fact, he enjoyed and loved most areas of his life. Except work.

There was nothing wrong with construction. He was good at it. He enjoyed working outside. And he liked (most of) the guys he worked with.

Then, one day, he'd been approached about a job. It was a way out of construction and a move closer to his roots in animal behaviour. The job wasn't guaranteed. A university wanted him to join and be a part of their research proposal. If they were chosen, he'd have a job for at least three years (and likely would be able to easily turn it into a future full-time position). If they weren't, well, no harm done.

Except it wasn't that simple. Nothing was _ever_ simple anymore.

He debated the proposal for a couple of weeks. He talked with Barry and with his boss. He even talked with his dad. But he didn't talk to Claire. And he swore all of hem to secrecy. He wasn't sure if he was going to say yes. If he _wanted_ to say yes. And he _knew_ Claire would have strong opinions. He wanted to make the decision on his own.

He was the primary caregiver for Maisie. And for him to take on a new job, a job that would require more "traditional" hours, well, that would require some changes. Him becoming the primary caregiver hadn't happened on purpose; in fact, it had happened without any real conversation. It started because he was moving back to San Francisco and therefore didn't have a job (yet). And it was summer, so someone needed to stay home with Maisie. Then, when he started looking for a job, knowing what they needed and wanted (someone who could be home after school and take days off if Maisie was sick), influenced his job search.

At the beginning, he actually quite enjoyed it. Feeling needed and having a purpose had felt really good after his chosen break from society. But recently… well, recently, while he still loved the time he spent with Maisie, he had started to yearn for something _more_. He finally felt ready to start thinking about doing work with animals again (although, not dinosaurs). He felt ready to start putting his degrees to work. And he was starting to crave an intellectual pursuit.

The job offer was, in some ways, perfect timing. He hadn't been sure how to get his foot back in the door. Agreeing to be part of the proposal didn't actually commit him to anything up front. But that was six months ago, and the decision was suppose to come through any day now.

Which meant that now that was looming over him too, combined with Maisie being essentially "outed," the dinosaur field tests, and everything with Claire.

The day after the application was submitted, he _knew_ he should've talked with Claire first. That she would be hurt and upset that he hadn't. That making the decision on his own was stupid. But then a day went by, and then a week, and he still hadn't told her. And every day that went by since made it harder to say something.

He felt so high strung most days he didn't know if he was reacting reasonably or overreacting. He didn't remember what it was like to not live under the current weight of this stress.

Sitting up, his right hand naturally gravitated to his left, fingers reaching for the ring that was no longer there. Twisting it around his finger had long been a nervous habit he'd developed. Its absence sent his heart rate skyrocketing again.

x x x

Claire woke with a start. Her hand immediately grabbing for her neck as she let out a groan. She was _way_ too old to be falling asleep sitting up. It took a few more seconds before she remembered _why_ she fell asleep where she did and she leapt to her feet, fist already banging against the door.

"Maisie?" She knocked a few more times. "Maisie, please answer me." She reached for the doorknob, but was unsurprised to find it still locked. Her knocking wass quickly turning more into banging, as she continually called through the door. "Maisie? Open the door. Mais…"

After a few minutes of no answer, she gave one (admittedly stupid) attempt of trying to break down the door by slamming into it with her shoulder. When it (unsurprisingly) didn't budge, she rushed down the stairs. There had to be someway through the door.

As she came off the bottom step, her gaze caught on the top of Owen's head, visible just over the arm of the couch. Changing direction, she headed for him. For a moment, seeing his face looking peaceful in sleep, she was reminded of the events of the previous night, her hand grabbing at her pocket where she can still feel his ring. But only for a moment – Maisie was more important than whatever was going on with them at the moment, and she grabbed his shoulder and started shaking.

"Owen. Wake up! Owen!"

"Wha?" Owen blinked up sleepily at her.

"She's not answering."

"Huh?" Owen still looked confused.

"Maisie. She won't answer me. And the door is still locked."

"Are you sure she heard you?"

"She had too. I'm surprised _you_ didn't," Claire glared at him. "I need help opening her door."

Owen, stretching, got up from the couch and headed for the stairs. "Let me try."

She followed behind him, seething, as it was just like him to not take her word for it and insist on trying himself. It took a few minutes of him banging on Maisie's door and rattling the doorknob before he was convinced. "Do we have a key?"

Claire shrugged. "I have no idea. She's never locked the door before. I've never thought of having to get in."

Owen turned back to the door. "Maisie? Kiddo?" He gave her another moment to respond. "If you don't answer, I'm going to kick the door down." There was still silence, and when he turned to Claire, she gestured towards the door with a _well, aren't you_ look.

He liked to think he was in good shape. He _knew_ he was in good shape. But it still took him three kicks before he managed to force the door open. And then, he and Claire are standing in the room looking around in disbelief. Maisie was not there.

x x x

It was not until she collapsed into a seat, about a third of the way back on the bus, that Maisie actually realized that she was going to be able to pull it off. But it was only when the bus actually pulled away from the station that she let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding, and sunk deeper into the seat, hugging her backpack tightly on her lap.

She had been so sure that Claire or Owen was going to pop up and catch her. Getting out her window and down the tree had been easier than she expected. Although the squeak her window made when she opened it had sounded like a bomb going off in the silence of the night. She had stood frozen at her window for a couple of minutes, expecting Claire to start knocking again.

After she reached the ground, it had been easy enough to grab her bike and wheel it along the path in the woods behind her house (and she was really glad she knew those woods like the back of her hand, or it would've been kind of scary in the dark). There had been a moment where she thought she saw movement at the news vans parked along the road in front of the house, but everything had remained silent. Once she emerged in the park on the other side, it was smooth sailing to the bus stop, where she'd carefully locked her bike up, before buying her ticket from a machine. And then she had followed closely behind a woman, who looked the right age to be her parent, onto the bus, letting the bus driver assume she was with her.

And now, now she was on her way to see Gray.

Opening her backpack, she caught sight of her phone and realized there was one piece she'd missed. She knew Claire and Owen could track her phone. But, she also knew they couldn't track it when it was off. Powering the phone down, she put it away and pulled out the book she'd packed. It was going to be a long 12 hours.

x x x

"Maisie?" Claire called out, even though she couldn't see the girl.

"Kiddo?" Owen added, moving farther into the room.

It took them only a few seconds to realize that no, she wasn't in her closet or under the bed, and there really wasn't anywhere else to hide. In unison, both of their eyes moved towards the window and watched as the curtain move slightly with the light breeze entering the room.

"I can't believe she ran away," Claire moaned, sinking down onto the bed.

"She wouldn't run away," Owen shook his head, moving towards the window.

"She was so upset Owen," Claire disagreed, head bent, one hand rubbing at her neck. When he didn't reply, she looked up, and he was standing by the window, his back to her. "So upset."

"I still don't think she'd run away," Owen insisted.

"You didn't hear her," Claire whispered. "She doesn't think I–" Claire's voice broke, unable to finish the sentence. She lifted her head and took a moment to look around the room. The bed she was sitting on was unmade, but that's not what stood out. "Her backpack is gone."

Owen finally turned away from the window and also gave the room a cursory look. Maisie was organized, a trait he liked to think she picked up from Claire, and most of her stuff was still in their rightful places. "Her book's gone," he nodded towards her bedside table, where normally whatever book Maisie was reading sat, "and I don't see her iPad or phone." Owen moved towards Maisie's desk, eyes catching on a piece of paper. He picked it up and skimmed it quickly, before holding it out to Claire. "She made a list."

"A list?" Claire accepted the piece of paper, also skimming it quickly.

"A packing list," Owen clarified. "She definitely takes after you – everything is checked off."

"I should've tried harder," Claire moaned, ignoring Owen's somewhat of a compliment, her head sinking back into her hands. "I shouldn't have fallen asleep when she was that upset."

"Her phone!" Owen suddenly exclaimed, ignoring Claire as he rushed to the door. He disappeared from sight before Claire could say anything and only moments later he was re-entering the room, head bent over his own phone. But, as quickly as his excitement came, frustration overrode his expression again. "She must have turned it off. I thought we could trace her. Why does she have to be so smart?"

Claire looked around the room again, before turning to Owen, "Where do you think she'd go?"

"I don't know. If she's turned off her phone she won't be at a friends," Owen sighed. "They would tell us."

"Iris?" Claire raised hesitantly as an option, before negating it herself. "No, Iris is on a cruise and she would tell us anyway." She looked around the room before moving towards the bookshelf and picking up Maisie's stuffed sock monkey, surprised it got left behind. "How are we going to find her?"

x x x

Five hours into the bus ride, the bus pulled into a larger station, and the driver announced that they would be there for a 20 minute break and that passengers were welcome to get off the bus if they wanted.

Maisie was starving. She hadn't thought about food when she was packing and she didn't keep anything in her room anyway, so there wouldn't have been anything to pack. And she'd been running on adrenaline at the bus stop in the morning, too worried about being caught, that she hadn't thought of grabbing something there either.

Finally, she was going to get her chance.

She grabbed her backpack and stuffed her book back into it, before following the other passengers off the bus. The station wasn't very big, just a counter for sales, a couple of vending machines and some restrooms. However, at this point, any food sounded good, so she headed straight for the vending machines, eyes skimming the choices. Almost $10 later she had a bag of chips, a chocolate bar, a package of skittles, and a can of soda.

She turned away from the vending machine, putting her backpack back on only to see someone staring at her. She ducks her head, trying to avoid the look, and headed back toward the bus. She only made it a few feet before she heard it.

"Maisie? Are you Maisie Lockwood?"

She didn't mean to look. She tried hard not to give any noticeable response to her name, but she couldn't help it. Her head immediately snapped up and towards the voice. It was the man who had been watching her. At her reaction, he stood up from his seat, and was moving towards her.

"Look," he called out, to who, Maisie was unsure. "Look, it's Maisie Lockwood." When his calls didn't get an immediate response he added, "She's the _clone_!"

Maisie had been speed walking away from him, but at this, she broke out into a run, heading for the doors and bursting back out into the sunlight. She started towards her bus, but she could hear people leaving the building behind her, and someone else calling her name. Her legs carry her past the bus, rounding around behind it and disappearing into the adjacent parking lot. She ran through it, only slowing down when she could no longer hear anyone behind her. She paused, somewhat hidden by a van, and looked back towards the bus station. To her dismay, her bus was pulling away from the curb. And even worse, there were some people who looked like they were searching the parking lot.

She opened her backpack and pulled out a hat and sweatshirt and yanked them on. A weak disguise, sure, but she didn't know what else to do. She then let her gaze sweep the area, and she realized that off to her right, there was a bit of a forest beside the parking lot. She headed for the cover of the trees.

x x x

"It's been _hours_ , Owen," Claire was pacing the living room as Owen tried again to phone Maisie. "We need to _do_ something."

"What do you suggest?" Owen snapped back. "You won't let me call the police."

"Yeah, because _that_ will go over well," Claire rolled her eyes. "People know who she is. Her face is on the news. If they find out she ran away…" Claire trailed off, collapsing onto the couch. "There's _no way_ the adoption will go through."

"Besides phoning her and texting her and _hoping_ she'll turn her phone on, I don't know what else _to_ do," Owen admitted. He didn't disagree with her reasoning. But as the hours ticked by and they heard nothing from Maisie, he wanted to be doing something more _active_. Like driving the streets in his truck and yelling out the window, even if, yes, he knew that wouldn't solve anything.

"I should've tried harder," Claire whispered from her spot on the couch.

"Claire," Owen sighed, "I don't think you've ever _not_ given 100% to something. I don't know how you could try harder."

"I stopped knocking. I could've kept knocking and trying to get her to answer me."

"Only thing that would've done is made her more angry," Owen tried to remind her.

"She was _so_ mad at me," Claire moaned. "She doesn't think I want her." For the first time that day, Claire stopped holding back the tears that had been building. "She thinks she's a disappointment, that I hate her."

Owen moved towards the couch, sitting down on the coffee table facing Claire. "Of course she doesn't think that. Maisie loves you."

"No," Claire shook her head. "She told me she doesn't think I want her. Said I should've left her with Iris. She doesn't love me. She loves _you_."

"Claire," Owen reached for her, but after the previous night, everything he would've done now feels awkward. He settled for resting his hands on her knees. "She was mad. Kids say all sorts of things when they're mad. I'm sure you told your parents you hated them when you were that age. It doesn't mean anything."

Claire knew Owen was trying to be comforting, but all she could focus on was his left hand, ringless, on her knee. The words he was saying sound muffled, as if he was speaking underwater. She could feel the ring burning a hole in her pocket, and all of a sudden it was too much. She jumped up from the couch, Owen's hands falling away, and she started pacing the room again as she brushed away her tears and grabbed her phone. "I'm going to call her again."

x x x

If it wasn't for the awkward interruption of the news program, and someone who happened to glance up to see what was happening, Zia was sure that the entire DPG team would've missed the live announcement. But as it was, they had the TV turned up loud, and everyone in the office was gathered around to watch.

" _In breaking news, we have leaked footage from another dinosaur field test_ ," the anchor announced excitedly. " _We're being told… that this test took place sometime during the previous 24 hours. There aren't a lot of details known yet, including_ where _the test took place, but we didn't want to wait to share it with all of you, our loyal viewers._ "

There was a groan that traveled the room at the anchors comments but their eyes stayed glued anyway.

The camera cut away from the anchor as the leaked footage was shared. It was clearly being recorded by someone on a cellphone, as the image wobbled all over the place, somewhat nauseatingly. Slowly, they were able to make out that the video was being shot somewhere in a treed area. Not a forest – it wasn't dense enough for that – but there are a fair number of trees. There were glimpses of some military looking vehicles.

Then there was a scream. A scream that Zia and Franklin recognized. The type of scream they heard that night at the Lockwood Estate. The type they would never forget. A scream of terror. A scream that was cut-off midway through, as the owner was no longer alive to finish it. Zia and Franklin shared a quick horrified look, before their gaze cut back to the TV.

Now it was clear that whoever was holding the phone was running. Trees were going by until, at some point, the person fell, as the video showed a close up of grass before going dark. Then it was picked up again, and they got their first glance of the dinosaur. It was in the middle of chomping down on the head of some person, before tossing the rest of the body to the side, before the dinosaur continued its charge forward.

"What is that?" someone in the group asked, and they all crane their heads close to the TV. It was hard to focus on it, as the camera kept bobbing and weaving, the dinosaur cutting in and out of the frame.

"I think it's an _Allosaurus_ ," one person replied. A couple chime in with agreement.

"Wait," someone else spoke up. "I don't think so. Did anyone see that shot of its foot? There was a big toe claw. Like a velociraptor."

"Really?" another answered, sounding doubtful. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Are we recording this?" Zia asked the room. The video has ended and the camera was back on the news anchor, who was looking a little green.

" _Well, we didn't realize it was going to be quite that…_ gruesome," the anchor apologized. " _We're going to return to our regular programming, but we'll let you know more when_ we _know more._ "

"Yeah, we've recorded it," Franklin nodded, holding out the remote.

"I want to see it again," Zia grabbed the remote from him, and started to scroll through the footage, looking for clear shots of the dinosaur to stop on. The first one she found was a pretty decent side view. Pausing on it, the group gave it a good look. "Definitely an _Allosaurus_ ," Zia agreed. She continued scrolling through the video, looking for the foot shot that someone had mentioned. When she found it, she paused again. There were a couple of gasps through the room. "Okay," Zia added, "it's _mostly_ an _Allosaurus_."

"Not again," Franklin sighed.

x x x

The bit of forest turned out to be really only a few trees that separated the parking lot from a residential area. Maisie had looked wistfully at her phone, as she tried to figure out where to go, wanting to open up Google Maps.

She wandered the streets for a little while before she came across a playground. She headed for the swings. Sitting down, the swing barely moving under her, she tried to decide what to do next. This wasn't working out like she had planned.

Pulling her phone out again, she stared at it. She knew what she needed to do, but really wished she didn't have to. She held down the button, waiting for it to turn on. As she waited, her gaze focused on a couple out for a walk with their dog. They were also pushing a stroller and accompanied by a young kid on a tricycle. The man was pushing the stroller with one hand while the other was holding woman's hand. She envied them. They looked so happy. Didn't they know what was happening? That her world was falling apart?

Before she could spend another second thinking about them, her phone started vibrating like crazy, and she watched as notice after notice for missed calls, voicemails, and text messages come flooding in. They're almost all from Claire and Owen. As they stream by, she only managed to read occasional words and phrases. She saw _I love you_ and _call us_ , along with _kiddo_ and _where are you_.

She unlocked her phone and opened the call screen. Her index finger hovered – who should she call? Closing her eyes, she stabbed down, opening them to see the phone ringing. It was answered almost immediately.

"Maisie?"

* * *

 _As always, thanks so much for the reviews. It definitely keeps me going to read them (I look back at them when my motivation is low). And to know that many of you are really feeling the emotions they're all going through is the biggest compliment I could get. Thanks!_

 _x x x_

 _I want to recommend another author. This time **Nadin4400**. She has so many amazing clawen pieces._

All Things Lost and Broken _takes place post JW and sends Claire back to the island, where it turns out Owen is too (things didn't go so great for them right after JW). It's both a story of them coming back together, but also a potential outcome for the park. I also highly recommend is_ Rearrange the Stars _where, in attempt to keep Owen at the park and Claire's job they agree to pretend to be engaged (also Owen is Canadian in this fic, which gives it extra bonus points). This one is definitely a humorous and lighthearted journey. Nadin has an amazing collection of one shots called_ One Day Soon You Will Be Mine _, over on AO3. I don't think there's a single one of the 87 that I don't like. There's a zillion more of hers I could recommend._

 _She does have some that are left incomplete (you can check their status before reading) and but I still have hope that she may finish them. And that you guys can help me out with getting her to do so, by writing her reviews and letting her know that there are many of us waiting and hoping._


	7. Chapter 6

_Just a heads up that this chapter really doesn't have much clawen. It's more important for moving the plot forward. Lots of clawen angst in the next one (and probably every chapter from there to the end - where it will be happy)._

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

Owen almost dropped the phone in shock when Maisie's name appeared on the screen. He and Claire had been trading off calling her all morning with no luck. Leaving voicemails until the box was full and text message after text message. And now, she had called _them_.

"Maisie?" he answered the phone, almost not believing it was going to be her on the other end. There was silence. "Kiddo, are you there?" Claire had stopped pacing the room and was now standing millimetres away from him. He pulled the phone away from his ear and turned on speaker.

"Mais?" Claire choked out.

There was another moment of silence, before they could just make out the sounds of sobbing.

"Oh Mais, it's going to be okay," Claire called out. "I'm so glad you called."

"I'm sorry," Maisie sobbed into the phone.

"Where are you?" Owen got right to the point. "Let us know where you are and we'll come pick you up. We promise you're not in trouble. We just want to come get you."

There was a whispered response and Claire and Owen looked at each other in confusion.

"You're… _where_?" Claire asked again.

"Avenal."

"Where the _hell's_ Avenal?" Owen whispered to Claire, hand covering the microphone. Claire shrugged but pulled out her own phone to look it up. "Maisie, where in Avenal are you right now? Are you somewhere safe?"

"I'm on a swing," Maisie replied.

"What?!" Claire couldn't help her shout when she realized just how far away Maisie was. Owen turned to her in panic. "Maisie, you're a three hour drive away! Where were you going? How did you get there?"

"Three hours?!" Owen repeated in shock. "How did you get three hours away from here?"

"I took the bus," Maisie replied matter-of-factly. "I wanted to go see Gray."

"Gray?" Claire asked, confused. She looked at the map again, and it made sense, but, "Why Gray?"

There was a pause, and then they heard Maisie sigh. "I was going to go see Aunt Karen, but it costs over $150 and would take like 2 days on a bus. Gray was closer… and a _lot_ cheaper."

Owen had to turn away to hide his snort of laughter. Claire had complained to him before how Maisie took after him, but he had never seen it that way. In his opinion, Maisie thought like Claire, through and through, as was also evidenced by her running away packing list, neatly checked off.

"Mais," Claire said calmly, and Owen turned back, catching the seriousness of her voice. "Why aren't you still on the bus? I'm … _we're_ so happy you called us, but why are you sitting on a swing."

"I just wanted to get something to eat. I was hungry," Maisie replied, and they hear the crinkle of a bag of chips. There was crunching for a few seconds before Maisie continued. "Someone called my name. They told everyone I was a clone. And so I … I ran."

"You _ran_ ," Owen repeated. "Are you okay? Is there anybody around you? Did anyone follow you?"

"No, the park is empty. I saw a family out for a walk, but that's it."

"Do you know what park you're at?" Claire questioned. "Actually, nevermind the park. It's going to take us a while to get there. _Three hours_ according to Google! If they weren't talking about you on the news, I'd suggest you catch a bus back here, but that's not going to work…"

"The library," Owen suggested. "There's got to be a library nearby. Kiddo, how far are you from the library?"

They wait silently, listening to Maisie continued to munch on chips as she searched for the closest library on her phone. "Google says it'll take me about 10 minutes to walk there."

"Okay, Maisie, we want you to walk there. When you get there, find a quiet corner, and wait for us," Owen instructed. "Do you have a hat with you?"

"I'm wearing it," Maisie admitted. "I put it on after I ran away."

"Okay, good. Keep it on, and pull it down low in front. And kiddo," Owen continued. "Keep your phone on and at your side. If _anything_ , and I mean _anything_ happens, you are to call us _immediately._ "

"And Mais," Claire added. "Text us when you get to the library. We're going to be checking in constantly, and you _better_ reply."

"Okay," they could heard shuffling sounds, as Maisie appeared to be getting up and ready to head to the library.

"Three hours," Owen reminded her. "We'll be there as fast as we can."

"We love you," Claire said. "We'll see you soon."

"I'm sorry," Maisie repeated quietly, but following with, "Bye." There was a click and the call ended.

Owen took a deep breath, before looking at Claire. "I don't care what you say, but Maisie is 100% for sure _your_ daughter."

Claire just rolled her eyes. "We need to get going. Three hours. _Three hours_. You know, when Zach was like 7, he tried to run away. He got to the end of the street before he started crying and returned home. How did _we_ end up with the kid who manages to get _three hours_ away from home?"

"Let's just be glad she's not a little bit older and able to get away with getting on a plane," Owen said after a moment of contemplation. "And," he added, voice brightening, "she may have been running away, but she stuck with family. She was going to see Gray. She would've known he'd phone us if she turned up at his place unannounced. She wasn't trying to completely escape us."

x x x

By the time they were finally climbing into Claire's vehicle (which was an argument in and of itself), Claire's phone rang at the same time both their phones chimed with a text message from Maisie, announcing she was at the library.

"It's Zia," Claire said, looking at her phone. She turned on her car, letting the carspeaker pick up the call, allowing them both to hear. "Hey Zia, what's up?"

"Did you see the news?" Zia asked in a rush. "There was another dinosaur test."

" _And it didn't go well_." They heard Franklin shout in the background.

"This one was… bloody Claire," Zia confirmed. "But that's not the worst part."

As soon as they heard the word dinosaur test, Claire had stopped getting ready to pull out of the driveway, and she and Owen had shared a worried look.

"What do you mean, that's not the worst part? What could be worse than that?"

"Is it loose?" Owen interrupted to ask.

"Owen?" Zia asked, confused.

"We're in a bit of a hurry Zia," Claire interrupted, impatient. "What happened?"

"We don't know what kind of dinosaur it is."

"So? How is that bad news? We know what's out there," Owen inserted, also feeling impatient. "You'll find out whenever video or something gets leaked."

"The video already _has_ been leaked," Zia replied. "It _looks_ like a _Allosaurus_."

"Well, that's on the auction list," Claire replied. "So that's not unexpected."

"I know," Zia agreed. "But the problem is that while it _looks_ like one, there's a shot where you can clearly see one of it's legs and a foot. On the foot… The foot has a toe claw. If we hadn't seen the rest, I would've sworn it was a _Velociraptor_."

There was stunned silence for a couple of moments in the car, before Claire choked out. "You think it's a hybrid?"

"Yeah, we think so," Zia replied in a soft voice.

"How? … Who? … Do we _never_ learn?!" Owen stuttered out angrily. "Fucking _hell_." He slammed a fist into the dashboard and Claire jumped.

"I really need you to come in Claire," Zia added. "We don't think anyone else has caught on yet but they will. And as it stands, from what we can tell, at least 5 people died in the video. And the video is only about a minute long. The fallout… it's going to be bad. We really need you here to lead us."

"I can't," Claire whispered, looking stricken. A part of her wanted to go in. Work was something she knew how to handle. But Maisie was three hours away from them, and a larger part of her wanted to get to her daughter. "Something happened here too, Zia."

"What?" Zia asked, concerned.

"No, wait," Owen interrupted. "Zia, we'll phone you back in two minutes." He didn't give her a chance to reply, grabbing Claire's cell and shutting it off. He turned to face her. "Claire, I _know_ you want to go get Maisie. But it's going to take three hours to get her and another three hours to get back. By the time you can get in there…"

"I can work from the car," Claire suggested. "I need to see her Owen. I need to tell her."

"I know," Owen reached across and grabbed Claire's hand. "But Maisie loves you. And she _loves_ the dinosaurs. She'll understand."

"But–"

"No buts," Owen shook his head. "Besides, I think it might be good for Maisie and I to have a chance to talk. It'll be less overwhelming if it's one-on-one and not two-on-one."

"Owen..." Claire looked torn, but Owen was already unfastening his seatbelt and opening the car door.

"We'll call you. The moment I get to her, we'll call you," Owen promised. "You better get in there, before this gets worse."

Claire stared at him and he met her gaze head on, eyes locked on each other. There were no words exchanged and yet, it felt like the most honest they had communicated in months. Finally, Claire looked away and nodded. "Okay."

x x x

It had been over three and a half hours since Maisie phoned him when Owen was finally pulling into the library parking lot. He parked rather haphazardly, in too big of a rush to get inside. Between leaving a bit late and then getting caught in traffic, he was frustrated and annoyed. He would willingly admit he sped, trying to get there faster, but he was _still_ late. As he drove, Claire had phoned him periodically, as she made sure to stay in text message contact with Maisie. He had managed to have a couple short conversations with Maisie himself, but libraries weren't the best place for phone calls.

Now, as he yanked open the door of his truck and climbed down, he could see Maisie rushing out of the library doors. He had given her a heads up when he was a few minutes out, and it appeared she'd been just as eager to see them as he was to see her.

She ran towards him and allowed him to grab her in a giant bear hug, lifting her off the ground. "Oh kiddo, you have no _idea_ how glad I am to see you," Owen told her, as he set her back on her feet. "Do you know how much you scared us?"

Maisie pulled back from him, looking around him, before meeting his eyes. "Where's Claire?"

"Something came up," he started, and he watched as Maisie's happy expression faded away and she tried to look neutral. "Hey, hey, hey. She was in the car with me. We were about to head out, but another dinosaur field test has happened and things have gotten ugly."

"She doesn't even care," Maisie turned away from him, shrugging with pretend indifference.

"Now that's absolutely not true," Owen shook his head before gently grasping Maisie's shoulders, turning her to look at him.

"If she cared, she'd be here," Maisie insisted, before mumbling, gaze falling to the ground. "She doesn't want me."

"What?" Even though Claire had told him what Maisie had said earlier, he had thought Claire was just exaggerating. "No. Maisie, look at me." He waited until she met his eyes. "Claire loves you. She wanted to be here. It's… it's my fault that she isn't."

Maisie pulled back from his grasp, arms crossing over her chest. "What does it even matter anyway? You guys are just going to get divorced," she stated as she started to walk around the truck.

Owen just stared after her in shock. "What?"

"I guess it's a good thing I'm not getting adopted, that would just make it all worse," Maisie added, as she pulled open the passenger door and climbed in.

Owen just looked at her, mouth open in shock, before following her lead and climbing back into the truck. "You're still getting adopted," he said as he pulled on his seat belt.

He turned the truck back on but didn't make a move towards driving anywhere, his mind racing. How was it that every conversation he'd been in over the last few weeks had gone off the rails from the start?

"Are we just going to sit here?" Maisie finally asked, her gaze focused out her window.

"We need to phone Claire first," Owen finally remembered. "I promised we'd call as soon as I got you." He didn't wait for a response, as he was not sure he wanted to hear what she had to say. He just started the call, letting it go through the truck's audio system. Claire, no surprise, picked up immediately.

"Owen?"

"Hey," Owen replied, looking over at Maisie. "I just got Maisie and we're about to get going on our way back. I just need to stop at a gas station first."

"Maisie?" Claire called out, wanting to hear her voice. But Maisie didn't answer, arms still crossed and her gaze locked out the passenger window.

"She's here," Owen finally replied for her. "How's everything going?"

"It's a mess," Claire picked up on Owen's distraction and went with it. "But let me know when you get close. I'll meet you at home."

"Okay, will do," Owen agreed, and they exchange quick byes before hanging up. He looked over at Maisie, debating if he should say anything, before sighing and just pulling out of the parking lot. It was going to be a long drive.

x x x

If it had been any other day, the pair entering the DPG headquarters dressed in black suits would've been noticed immediately. However, with everything that had been going on in response to the field test, no one had the time to be focused on new visitors.

It took the pair three tries to finally get someone to stop long enough to acknowledge them. As they asked for Ms. Dearing, they were just told that she was in her office and one gestured them loosely off in one direction. Exchanging looks of disbelief, the pair headed through the chaos to a series of doors along the back wall. Eventually, they found one with a name plaque with Ms. Dearing. The door was mostly closed and they could hear two heated voices arguing within. Again, they exchanged looks, before the first reached out and gave a solid knock.

The voices inside came to an abrupt halt, before one called out, "Come in."

They pushed the door open and entered the office. Inside, behind the desk, they recognized Ms. Dearing, while on the other side of the desk was a woman a few years younger with dark hair and tattoos. From their briefing notes, they identified her as Ms. Rodriguez.

"Hello," Claire stood up from her seat, holding out her hand. While she didn't know who these people were, their suits gave them away immediately as government workers. "I'm Claire Dearing and this is Zia."

"Hello, we're here from the Office of Special Investigations," the male said.

Zia immediately snorted. Claire quirked an eyebrow, looking at Zia in question, who just shrugged, before looking at the two newcomers and half-joking saying, "Secret Squirrels?"

"I'm Mr. Woods and this is Ms. Spencer." Mr. Woods ignored Zia and stepped forward to shake Claire's hand. Ms. Spencer followed after him. "Do you have some time to talk?"

"Well," Claire looked out the door at the main area, where she could still see everyone rushing around. "It's not really the _best_ time."

"We have an offer," Ms. Spencer said. "We just need twenty minutes of your time."

Claire and Zia exchanged looks, before Claire nodded, reluctantly. "Okay. Let's go down the hall to the conference room, we'll have a bit more space there." She walked out of the room with confidence, knowing that the other three would follow.

Once they're settled around the larger table, she looked both of them directly in the eye and stated. "What do you want to ask of us?"

Again, Mr. Woods and Ms. Spencer exchanged looks, as if debating who was going to have to present their offer. In the end, Ms. Spencer spoke up. "As you are obviously well aware, there was another dinosaur field test today."

Claire reached out and quickly grabbed and squeezed Zia's arm under the table. She just _knew_ that Zia was about to respond with "no shit." Instead, Claire just nodded in acknowledgement, before waiting for them to continue.

"We, obviously, are very concerned with what's going on. As the DPG has been instrumental in helping with the capture and resettlement of the dinosaurs that were let loose in California, we were hoping that we could convince you to work with us on determining a solution to the current… problem."

This time, Claire was unable to stop Zia's snort over the use of the word helpful. And, to be honest, she was in complete agreement. They weren't _just_ helpful. They ran and organized everything, and continued to do so to this day.

"What do you mean by solution?" Claire questioned. "These dinosaurs, the ones that were sold, are not on American soil."

"Well, that _was_ true," Mr. Woods agreed slowly.

"Was?" Zia asked.

"We've been able to track down where this latest field test happened. Out in a remote area of Nevada," Mr. Woods supplied. "This latest dinosaur test was essentially right in our backyard."

Claire and Zia both look shocked. Determining the location of the test is something they had been actively trying to do all afternoon and hadn't made any progress. And now they knew – there were dinosaurs back on US soil.

"If you know where the test took place, what do you need our help for?" Claire asked again.

"Are you wanting us to organize the capture of the dinosaur?" Zia added.

"No," Ms. Spencer shook her head. "We already have a team en route that will be taking care of that. However, once the dinosaur is captured, we do need somewhere to put it."

"Put it?" Zia rolled her eyes.

"This dinosaur," Claire reminded them, "has killed at least 5 people according to the leaked video. You plan on keeping it _alive_?"

"Of course," Mr. Woods looked confused. "You've been arguing for saving these dinosaurs for almost five years now Ms. Dearing. I would've thought you'd be in agreement."

"I'm all for saving _dinosaurs_ ," Claire agreed, "but that–"

This time, it was Zia who was stopping Claire from speaking, with a swift kick to her shin. Claire glared at Zia, who glared back. After a moment, when Claire still looked confused, Zia sighed, and leaned over and whispered, "they don't know." Claire just stared at her for a moment, before a look of understanding crossed her face.

"We don't know what?" Ms. Spencer asked.

"Nothing," Claire dismissed, quickly moving the conversation forward. "You said you've got a team en route now. What's their plan, once they've contained the dinosaur?"

"At the moment, we're hoping that there will be somewhere on site where it has been kept in containment that we can continue to use for now," Ms. Spencer said. "Long term, what we're hoping for, what we're _looking_ for, is to partner with the DPG in order to move this dinosaur to the island."

"Again, this dinosaur has _killed_ people," Claire replied.

"And so has the _T. rex_ and … the one called Stiggy," Mr. Woods replied. "Oh, and don't forget the infamous _Blue_. She's had her own number of incidents."

"She has _never_ killed a human who didn't deserve it," Claire couldn't help defending Blue. Yes, Blue had killed humans, but only those who were already attacking her. And, while she had definitely been destructive during her brief rampage through California, she hadn't killed any humans. Pets and wild animals? Yes. But not humans.

"We don't need your decision right now," Ms. Spencer inserted. "We understand that there would be a lot of logistics to sort out. However, we are on a tight timeframe and hope that you can get back to us in the next couple of days."

"And if we don't agree?" Zia asked.

"I think you'll find it's in your best interest _to_ agree," Mr. Woods replied. "But if you don't, the DPG's control of the island is about to come up for renewal."

"Are you _blackmailing_ us?" Claire asked sharply, pushing her chair back from the table.

"Blackmailing? No," Ms. Spencer shook her head in disagreement. "Just stating the facts."

It took all of her years of experience of having to deal with this type of bullshit, but Claire put on a smile and said, "We'll take a couple of days to talk it over and with the board. Introducing a new dinosaur to the island is not a simple task. We will get back to you."

Mr. Woods and Ms. Spencer stood up in unison, Zia and Claire following suit. "Thank you for your consideration," Mr. Woods said, reaching across the table to, again, shake hands with them both. Ms. Spencer did the same. Claire made a move towards the door, but Mr. Woods waved her back. "No need, we can find our way out."

Once they're out of sight, both Zia and Claire collapse back in their chairs.

"What the hell?" Zia asked. "Are they _insane_?"

"How do they _not_ know?" Claire looked at Zia. "They've figured out where this dinosaur is and yet, they don't know it's a hybrid? That doesn't make sense. They _must_ know. Why didn't they say anything?"

"Maybe they thought we'd say no if we knew?" Zia said. "Although, we _are_ going to say no, right?"

"Well…"

"Claire, c'mon. It's crazy to try to introduce another dinosaur to that island. They've all sorted out their territories. It's hard enough to raise money to support what we're doing right now."

"I think fundraising would be the least of our worries," Claire remarked. "A new dinosaur would raise interest again."

"Seriously Claire?" Zia looked scandalized.

"I'm not suggesting we do that," Claire rolled her eyes. "I'm just saying, the monetary incentive is there. But I'm with you, I don't think it's a good idea. And I really don't like that it's a _hybrid_. I know that _Velociraptors_ are pack animals, but I don't think a hybrid raptor would be a good addition for Blue." She sighed. "But not agreeing… letting the dinosaur die? It goes against everything we've argued for."

"That _thing_ is not a dinosaur."

x x x

The first hour of the drive elapsed in silence. Maisie continued to sit with her arms crossed, glaring out her window, while Owen drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, trying to figure out what to say.

 _Divorce_? He, reluctantly, had to admit that the word has crossed his mind before. But it had never been something he'd actually wanted. He glanced at his left hand and the tan lines from the missing ring. Well, not _missing_ , not anymore. He wondered what Claire did with it. She didn't even say anything about it all morning. Of course, they did have a bigger priority on their hands. Oh god, divorce!

When Claire and him originally took Maisie in, Karen had warned them both to remember that kids were _always_ listening. They had laughed it off at the time, but now he was wondering how much Maisie knew about what had been happening between him and Claire. And if they'd made it all that much _worse_ by not being up front about it, and trying to shelter her. He'd been pretty good at catching when she'd tried to sneak up on them in the past, making sure they switched topics before she could hear much. But, he wasn't dumb – there was a good chance he didn't always catch her in time.

He took a glance over at her, a hint of smile crossing his face, as he watched her pouting and glaring out the window. At least, in everything that had been going down, she tried to run away _to family_ , and when things weren't working out, she _did_ call them. It could've been so much worse. He took those as signs that, while she was confused and upset, she still wanted them as her family. That she didn't actually hate them.

Taking a deep breath he let it out slowly, then said loudly "Okay, we've got at least two more hours in this truck. Which means we've got two hours to talk through some things."

"I don't want to talk," Maisie grumbled, still not looking at him.

"That's fine, you don't have to," Owen nodded, sparing a look in her direction, catching her eye as she turned to him in surprise. "I'm pretty good at holding a conversation with myself. You can just listen."

When he paused and turned his gaze back to the road, he heard Maisie start to rummage in her backpack. Giving her a quick glance, he saw a triumphant smile cross her face as she pulled out her phone and a set of headphones.

"Oh no, uh-uh," Owen shook his head. "Hand them over." He reached out his hand, and waited until Maisie reluctantly placed the phone in it. "And the headphones." Like he said, he wasn't dumb, and he knew she took her iPad too. With a growl, Maisie handed them over, and Owen shoved both into his pants pocket, while she turned back to her window.

Settling back in his seat, gaze back on the road, Owen wasn't sure how to actually start this conversation. And so they continued in silence for a few more miles.

"I thought you were going to talk," Maisie finally said, turning away from the window.

"Just deciding where to start," Owen replied. He gave her a searching glance, before stating. "Claire and I, we're not getting a divorce."

"Right," Maisie rolled her eyes. "That's why you're fighting all the time. Because you're just _so happy_ together."

"Relationships aren't that simple," Owen replied. "I know you don't know a ton of our backstory. But Claire and I… We've always had a complicated relationship. And it's not at all helped by the fact that we're both alpha personalities," he paused to look at over at Maisie. "You are too, you know."

He got just the slightest hint of a smile from her, before her glare returned.

"There's nothing wrong with having an alpha personality. In fact, it can be great. It's primarily the reason that both Claire and I have been able to do what we've wanted in our lives. But, everything always has its downsides too. And alpha's are good at leading, but we're not good at following. Claire and I have always struggled with this, as we both want to lead. Sometimes it works out well, and we lead in the same direction. Like when we both knew immediately that we wanted to keep _you_." Owen gave Maisie a big smile. "There was no conflict there, and we've both done everything we can to make sure this works."

"But you're fighting about _me_ ," Maisie interrupted. "You can't say you're on the same side when _I'm_ the reason you're fighting."

"We're not fighting about _you_ , kiddo," Owen disagreed. "We've been fighting about the situation. How to deal with the information coming out. How to respond to the press. How to react. This whole situation has just made everyone so on edge, and it has meant that we're not as in control of our emotions as we'd like to be. But we're definitely not fighting _about_ you. We're in complete agreement on you."

"You told Claire that if she didn't want me…" Maisie whispered. "I heard you. I heard you say that she didn't have to keep me."

"No," Owen shook his head, looking over at Maisie to see her disagreeing with him. He looked around the highway for a second, but there was nowhere to pull off. "Maisie. Kiddo! No, that's not what I said. And that's not at all what Claire thinks."

He looked over and saw tears on Maisie's cheeks, and again searched for a pull out. There was no sign of anything coming up soon, but the shoulder looked decently wide and he decided to just use it. He threw the truck into park and turned on the hazard lights, before removing his seatbelt so he could slide across the seat closer to Maisie. He wrapped one arm behind her, pulling her into a one-armed hug, while the other hand reached for her face, gently wiping away her tears.

"Oh kiddo, Claire loves you _so_ much. _I_ love you so much," he pulled her tighter too him. "I shouldn't have said anything outside your door. But I _promise_ you, our conversation had nothing to do with _not_ wanting you."

For a couple of minutes, they sat there, Maisie with her head buried against Owen, tears soaking his shirt, and Owen rubbing her back.

Eventually, Maisie pulled back, using her sleeve to wipe away the remains of her tears. "You're not getting a divorce?" She asked tentatively.

"No, absolutely not," Owen shook his head. And in that moment, he was 100% sure of what he was saying.

"How come…" Maisie started. She stopped and he gave her a quizzical look, as he grasped her knee and squeezed gently in question. She looked down at his hand before looking back at him and asked pointedly. "If you're not getting a divorce, how come you haven't been wearing your wedding ring? And… what does Claire not want, if it's not me?"

Owen's mouth dropped open briefly before he clamped it shut. He pulled his hand away and used it pinch the bridge of his nose, as he fell back against the seat. He let out a slow exhale. "Claire and I… Claire and I have some stuff we need to work through," he said slowly. "Like I said, our relationship has always been complicated and we don't always see eye to eye on everything. We got married _really_ quickly." He held up a hand to prevent Maisie from speaking, when she looked ready to interrupt. "Yes, we probably rushed into it _faster_ because of you. But neither Claire nor I would ever do anything that serious without actually _wanting_ it. We're not stupid. However, between getting married quickly and dealing with all the dinosaurs after they escaped, there's been a few things that Claire and I have never taken the time to sit down and talk through. It's way past time that we do that now."

Maisie looked at him critically for a moment, obviously thinking over what he said. "And your ring?"

"It's just a ring," Owen tried to dismiss her concerns.

"But you've never _not_ worn it before," Maisie pressed.

"I've been frustrated," Owen said after a moment. "Me not wearing it, is just me showing my frustration."

"And what Claire doesn't want?" Maisie added.

Owen groaned internally, he should've known she wouldn't let him pass over her questions. "I was frustrated," he repeated, before admitting, "I was telling Claire that she and I don't have to be together."

"But you're not getting a divorce," Maisie half-asked and half-stated. "You said you aren't."

"No, we're not getting a divorce," Owen agreed.

"But why…" Maisie looked confused. "That sounds like a divorce to me."

Owen stared at the roof of the truck for a long moment, trying to figure out how to explain everything in a way that a twelve year old would understand. He turned a bit in his seat so he was facing her. "Remember yesterday evening, when you were yelling at us?" He asked her, waiting for her nod before continuing. "You told us that you hate us."

At that, Maisie looked down, ashamed. "I didn't mean it," she said softly.

"I know," Owen nodded, reaching out to tip her head back up so she was looking at him. "Claire knows that too. But in the heat of the moment, sometimes it's easy to say things that you don't mean. That's what happened last night between me and Claire. I said some stuff I don't mean."

"Does Claire know that?"

Owen wanted to say yes, but he knew what happened wasn't that simple. And he was pretty sure after the past couple of weeks that, _no_ , Claire _didn't_ know that. Instead, he told Maisie, "Claire knows we've got some stuff we need to sort through."

Maisie looked unconvinced for a second, before finally nodding in acceptance.

Owen glanced down at his watch. "We better get going kiddo, we've still got a ways to go." He moved back into his seat, pulling his seatbelt on, before merging back onto the highway.

The car was silent for a few minutes, before Maisie spoke up. "I don't hate you. Or Claire."

"I know," Owen gave her a quick smile.

"I–" Maisie got cut-off by her stomach rumbling loudly.

"Sounds like someone's hungry," Owen grinned over at her and Maisie laughed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Maisie's phone, tossing it back over to the girl. "How about we grab something to eat, it's almost dinner time. What's nearby?"

x x x

" _The last time we talked to you Mr. Wu, your credentials had been stripped after the_ Jurassic World _incident. What's happened since? Why did you want to come on tonight's show?_ " The reporter asked. The camera pulled back from her to show that she was sitting in studio with Mr. Wu.

" _Well, as you can see_ ," Wu gestured towards himself, where it was easily clear to the viewer that he had what appeared to be scarring from burns down the right side of his face. " _A lot has happened. I had an … unfortunate incident, where I received 2nd and 3rd degree burns over the majority of my body. I have spent the last few years recovering, as much as I can from that._ "

" _That's terrible_."

" _It's definitely not good_ ," Wu agreed. " _But the reason I wanted to come on tonight, was that I wanted to talk about the human cloning research. I have spent much of the last couple of years working on applying the knowledge I gained from my work with the dinosaurs to trying to figure out cures and new methods for dealing with human diseases and conditions, such as my own. My lab has made some incredible breakthroughs, but there's one area that we need some help with._ "

* * *

 _ **Thanks!**_

 _Thanks to everyone who has been leaving reviews. They make my day and I smile over each one. I'd love to know what you think about the Maisie/Owen conversation on the topic of divorce. Do you think Owen handled it okay?_

 _x x x_

 _This week's author recommendation is **ClosetObsession** who posts here on FF. There are two stories - _Marry Me _and_ Charade _. Both are awesome and I don't know what one to suggest first, because each time I read one, I think it's now my favourite, then I read the other. Charade is Claire and Owen pretending to date, while (surprise surprise) falling for each other. And Marry Me is Owen trying really hard to convince Claire she should date him, while being friends with benefits - minus the friends part ;)._

Note - They are rated "M". If you aren't a fan and/or don't enjoy reading any smut, Charade only has a little bit near the end, while Marry Me has more through out. However, in any story/author that I recommend, if their stories do have an M, it's pretty much always possible to enjoy the story while skipping those parts.

 _All the authors I recommend write stories that really_ are _stories. They have an arc, and (unless listed as unfinished) will conclude with a satisfying ending. Definitely take some time to check them out._

 _And see you next week with chapter 7._


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

After the Secret Squirrels (and Claire was still laughing over the name) had left, and Zia had been called away by some DPG business, Claire found herself back in her office alone. The DPG headquarters were small, with most employees working out of a shared open floor office area. There were only a couple of offices and the one conference room. While there were days it definitely felt tight and cramped in the office, usually Claire enjoyed being able to keep an eye over everything going on. In a way, the open floor area reminded her of the control room at Jurassic World. Except instead of large screens giving an overview, the space itself was the overview.

Since most people had to work out in the main area, Claire worked hard to try and keep her office door open; to make it look like she was (somewhat) one of the team. But, at times like this, she was really glad she _had_ an office door and could close it and attempt to block out all the other noise.

Her mind was spinning. There was too much going on and she couldn't seem to find time to focus on any aspect of it. The dinosaur field tests. Maisie running away. And Owen… Owen giving her his ring.

She still had the ring in her pocket, and as she sat at her desk, leaning back in her chair, she pulled it out, staring at the simple band. When they had agreed to get married, Owen had asked, somewhat shyly she had thought at the time, if he could pick out their rings. And considering the speed at which they were getting married, delegating a task to him that he actually _wanted_ to do, seemed like a good idea. She had replied simply that she'd like something simple. He had nodded, given her his quick grin, and replied "I know."

 _A couple of days later, he had approached her with a couple of ring boxes. He'd held them out and said, "I've been debating surprising you with them, but, really, I'd rather you approve now, then hate them later."_

 _She'd taken the boxes nervously. Sure, they'd dated for almost two years post Jurassic World, but in all that time, Owen had never bought her jewelry. She realized, as she went to open them, she had no idea what his taste was. She opened the first box carefully, and knew immediately, by the size of the ring, that it was Owen's. It was a simple gold band, nothing flashy, and pretty utilitarian. She really didn't have an opinion on his ring, as her only hope was that he'd actually_ wear _one._

 _Opening the second box, she bit her lip, trying to make sure she didn't give a reaction until she was ready. She shouldn't have worried. He'd taken her comment seriously, and had obviously paid more attention to the jewelry she wore than she ever thought. The ring, smaller than the first, was almost equally simple. It wasn't quite as thick, and was more of a rose gold than plain yellow gold. In a way, it reminded her of a necklace she use to wear all the time, as if it had been taken and turned into a ring._

" _Is it… okay?" Owen asked, when she didn't say anything. "You said simple, and I know most of your jewelry is similar. I wasn't sure if I should've gone for something with diamonds. Or something else. But–"_

" _It's perfect," Claire gave him a brilliant smile. "Thanks." She handed the boxes back to Owen._

 _Owen turned to leave, before pausing briefly to give her a large smile and say, "It reminded me of you. Classy. Elegant."_

She hadn't seen the rings again until the day they were married. And it hadn't been until that evening, after the celebrations were over, that Owen had casually mentioned that he'd done something else with the rings.

 _She'd looked at him confused, until he had gently pulled his off, holding it up, tilted in front of her. She could see marks on the inside, but they didn't make sense. When she'd given him another confused looked, he'd gently pulled off hers, and lined it up carefully underneath. Together, when lined up just right, the rings spelled out two words: For Survival._

 _He'd looked a little sheepish, and said "I don't want us to ever forget. And, like the rings, it only works if we're together."_

Looking at his ring now, no longer on his hand, instead thrust into hers, she felt exactly like the text itself. Broken. Incomplete without its other half. Maybe survival wasn't enough.

She put the ring down on the desk in front of her, no longer wanting to hold it.

Owen wasn't normally an overly emotional guy. It wasn't that he was super stoic or refused to express emotion. She'd lived with him long enough and has survived two dinosaur catastrophes with him to ever say that. As she gazed at his ring, she finally took the time to start thinking over the last 24 hours. And then, she started thinking over the last few weeks and months. As she sat there, she was starting to realize that she'd missed something.

Sure, Owen and her argued. They were both too hot headed and stubborn to _not_. Both were always sure they were right, and neither was ever quick to concede defeat. But as heated as their arguments got (and they definitely had some explosive ones), they were never actually _mad_ at one another. They both knew the other too well, and understood where the other was coming from (even if they didn't agree). It was what made them work so well together.

Usually.

But that hadn't been the case recently. Instead, there had been a different tension underlying their arguments. A tension she had missed, caught up, as usual, in her own work.

However, try as she might, she couldn't think of anything specific that had happened recently that could be causing it. Nothing big had changed in their lives, not until the last few weeks, with the talk of human cloning and Maisie being outed and the dinosaur field tests happening. But the tension pre-dated any of that.

She picked up a pen, absently clicking it open and closed, between spinning it around her fingers, her gaze still focused on Owen's ring, resting on the desk in front of her. Could it be the adoption? They had started to get news a few months back that it was getting close to being finalized. Was he nervous about _that_? That still didn't seem quite right. He had been so excited when Maisie had asked for them to pursue the adoption. And she _knew_ he was waiting anxiously, more anxiously than even her, for Maisie to finally fully accept them as her parents.

 _Click. Click. Click._ She continued to fiddle with the pen, a look of contemplation settling over her face.

So caught up in her thoughts, Claire didn't hear the initial commotion coming from the main work area. But before it had a chance to interrupt her, her door burst open, Zia practically flying into the room.

"Oh my god he's _alive_!" Zia exclaimed. "You've got to see this!"

"Huh?" Claire looked up, startled.

"He's–" Zia paused, her gaze caught on the object on Claire's desk. "Wait, is that Owen's–"

This time, it was Claire cutting her off, as she reached out, snatching the ring out of Zia's sight. "Who?"

Zia gave Claire a deep searching look. She wanted to say more, but the commotion from the hallway interrupted, with Franklin shouting "You're going to miss it."

"Come on," Zia gestured quickly to the door. "Wu's _alive!_ "

x x x

" _My lab has made some incredible breakthroughs, but there's one area that we need some help with._ " Wu turned towards the tv, like he was preparing himself to say the next lines directly to those watching, not the reporter.

"Don't say it," Zia muttered towards the tv.

Claire heard her and found her gut clenching. She just _knew_ where this was going to go, but there was no time to prepare for it.

" _As we have been transitioning over to working on diseases and issues that affect_ humans," Wu said to the camera, " _we've run into some issues. We have been lucky because I have worked previously with Lockwood's team. I have had access to the scientists who worked on the human cloning. In fact, some of them are on my team today._ "

"Oh god," Claire felt her knees giving out. Thankfully, a chair appeared, bumping into the back of her legs, and she sunk down onto it gratefully.

" _However, there appears to be a key piece of the research missing. And while we've worked hard to replicate the results ourselves, and to figure this out on our own, we've come to the conclusion that the only way we're going to be able to solve it, besides mysteriously finding the lost research, is access to a …_ result … _of the human cloning_ ," Wu continued, looking at little too self-satisfied at his own words.

" _A…_ result?" the reporter questioned. " _You mean, a clone?_ "

" _Yes,_ " Wu nodded, turning away from the camera and back towards the reporter. " _We know from the research that there was a success. And now, from the research notes that have been leaked, we know that success resulted in a young girl named Maisie Lockwood._ "

" _Maisie Lockwood_ ," the reporter informed the audience, " _is the grand-daughter of the late Benjamin Lockwood, who, more recently, was known for the dinosaur auction that occurred at his estate, which resulted in the escaped dinosaurs across California three years ago._ "

" _Right,_ " Wu agreed. " _Maisie Lockwood is the only_ known _human clone to have survived the experimentation that Lockwood and his associates performed. We believe that she is key to unlocking the mysteries of successful human cloning. To helping us fill-in the missing data._ "

" _Only success_ ," the reporter latched onto those words, dismissing his request for the moment. " _There were others?_ "

" _Well, based on the label that was assigned to Maisie, the_ ML42 _that you've heard of, it seems likely that Maisie was the result of their 42nd attempt at cloning. Considering that she_ is _a success, she's alive today after all, we believe that it's unlikely that they continued on with further experiments, and that it is also unlikely that any of the previous 41 versions survived._ " Wu stated all of this matter-of-factly, ignoring the somewhat horrified look on the reporter's face.

Claire, however, was still hung up on his obfuscated request for access to Maisie. They (Zia, Franklin, Owen, and probably many others) had already understood the meaning of the number 42. There was nothing they could do about it now, and so had pushed the thought away for the time being.

" _Anyway, like I was saying, the key to all of the research we've been doing, is hidden inside that young girl,_ " Wu stated. " _I wanted to come on here today, to present an offer, or a plea if you will, to the guardians of Maisie, Claire Dearing and Owen Grady. We, my team and I, would like to work with them, and with young Maisie, of course, to figure out how to unlock this missing piece of data, so that we_ can _create cures for many of today's most vicious and horrifying diseases. We believe that Maisie is the key. That with her help, we can eradicate many of today's afflictions, making for a much healthier tomorrow._ " At the end of Wu's plea, the camera stayed frozen on his face for a few seconds, drawing out the emotion of the scene, before it cut back to a main newsroom shot, where there are a few reporters, ready to dive into a discussion and breakdown of the interview they just watched.

"Oh barf," Zia was the first at the DPG to react, everyone else mostly sitting in stunned silence. "Give me a break, he doesn't need Maisie for anything." She looked around at the group, who were now looking at her. "Seriously guys, he's bluffing. He's trying to get public support on _his_ side. Remember, he's been _persona non grata_ for years now. This is his way of trying to make it back into the spotlight."

"I don't know," Claire heaved a huge sigh, not liking where her thoughts were going. "I mean, I don't disagree with you that he's trying to get back into the spotlight and trying to rally support around him. But there's still something we must be missing. _How_ has he been doing all this research? His entire career, up through the events at Lockwood Estate have been funded by the whims of billionaires. But all of those people – Hammond, Masrani, Lockwood – are all dead. Who's his funder now?"

x x x

Owen and Maisie had grabbed dinner from In-N-Out burger, choosing to eat in the car in order to not get home any later than already planned. And as they neared the house, Owen put in a call to Claire, letting her know their estimated arrival. The moment Claire said she just needed another 30 minutes at work before she could leave, he knew that the dinosaur field test must be resulting in something big going down. He knew how much she wanted to see Maisie, and for her to not be out the door and on the way to her car during the call would only be the result of something very important.

After their earlier conversation, they had plugged in Maisie's phone, streaming music and chatting as they normally did. They put aside any thoughts about cloning and dinosaurs, just pretending that they were on a drive like any other day. It was a nice break for a couple of hours, but he knew, now that they were approaching their house, they were going to have to rejoin reality.

Pulling down their street, he was cursing himself internally over taking the truck to get Maisie. The truck didn't fit in the garage, which meant that Maisie was going to be visible to the cameras. It had been easy enough to ignore the reporters hours earlier when they had left, too focused on what they were doing to acknowledge them.

"Hey kiddo," Owen said. "Can you reach my sweatshirt in the back?" She gave him an affirmative, pulling it over the seat, into the front. "Great. Okay, take your seatbelt off. I want you to put it on. Put your hat back on too and put the hood up. I don't want them getting any pictures of you. You'll need to crouch down so you're lower than the window. When I park, stay in the truck, I'm going to come around and get you."

Maisie gave him a half-scared half-nervous look, before doing as he asked.

"No reason to give them anything extra," he tried to reassure her, as he pulled up into the driveway. "I'm just going to get the garage door open first. When I come around, I want you to climb down, and stand directly between me and the house. I'll stay at your back, and we'll go right in through the garage, no stopping."

He put the truck in park and turned it off, before taking a deep breath. He didn't want to interact with the crowd anymore than he wanted Maisie too. Stepping out of the truck he was immediately bombarded with people shouting out questions and statements.

"Mr. Grady! Mr. Grady!"

"Owen!"

"Can you comment on the adoption process falling through?"

"What do you think about the latest dinosaur field test?"

"You were the first one to work on militarizing dinosaurs, weren't you? Is this all a result of your work?"

Owen flinched at that comment, but hurried around the truck, pulling the door open. Maisie did exactly as requested, sliding out and standing in front of him, facing towards the garage. Slamming the truck door closed, and keeping his hands on her shoulders both to guide her and also to keep her close, the two of them headed into the garage and straight into the house, Owen pressing the button to shut the garage door as they went by.

He tried not to give any reaction to the continued calls from behind them.

"Is that Maisie?"

"Maisie. Maisie, over here!"

"What do you think about the news today?"

As the door into the house closed behind him, he let Maisie go, both of them pausing to remove their shoes. Maisie also pulling off her hat and his sweatshirt, which she left hanging from a hook on the wall.

"Are they ever going to go away?" Maisie questioned, the two heading into the kitchen.

"Eventually, they will," Owen sighed. "Something will come up that will distract them from this. But, until that does…" He trailed off, wishing he had something more positive to respond with. "I'd suggest we go out to the cabin, but I think they'd just follow us out there. And I really don't want that place tainted by their presence. Also, I have a feeling Claire won't be able to get away anytime soon."

"Are things that bad?" Maisie asked, sitting on a stool by the counter, legs swinging.

"I don't really know," Owen admitted. "I only heard the basics when I left to get you. But the fact that she isn't here to greet us… I don't think that's a good sign."

Owen pulled out his phone to check up on the news. Habit has him opening his email first, and at the top, the subject line of the first email makes his heart clench. _WE GOT IT!_ , the subject stated, with way too many exclamation marks. The sender, Dr. Maria Geller, was the lead on the proposal he was part of. Even though he knew that the result was going to come in any day now, seeing the email threw him. Not _now_. He couldn't deal with another thing right _now_. His face paled – he had to tell Claire.

"Are you okay?" Owen was jolted back to the present by Maisie's question. She was looking at him concerned. "You don't look okay."

"I'm fine," Owen managed to say, even though inside his mind was screaming. "I think we're probably better off waiting until Claire gets here to find out what's going on." He turned off his phone, shoving it back into his pocket. He looked around the room for a distraction. "Hey, we didn't have dessert. You up for some ice cream?"

x x x

When Claire entered the kitchen 20 minutes later, she found Maisie and Owen at the kitchen table. They both had giant bowls of ice cream in front of them, and the table was covered in everything they could find that could possibly be a sundae topping. There was the normal stuff, like sprinkles, chocolate sauce and whipped cream. But there were also items like mini marshmallows (always on hand because Claire had a soft spot for hot chocolate), Froot Loops, and Maisie's package of Skittles she'd bought earlier.

At her light, "ahem," both turned and gave her slightly guilty looks.

"We hadn't had dessert," Maisie said with a shrug.

"Want a bowl?" Owen asked.

Claire opened her mouth to say no, but what came out instead was a "Oh god, yes please." Both Owen and Maisie looked a little taken aback by that. While Claire had a sweet tooth, she was usually pretty restrictive of herself when it came to dessert. She moved around the table to Maisie's side, bending down and enfolding the girl in a deep hug. Maisie turned into the embrace, sinking into it too. "I'm so glad you're alright," Claire murmured into Maisie's hair, squeezing her a bit tighter. A few moments later, she pulled away, and slid onto the chair next to Maisie. Owen jumped up and grabbed another bowl and a spoon, plopping them in front of her, as Maisie slid the chocolate ice cream in her direction.

"Things that bad?" Owen asked a few minutes later, once Claire had concocted her own bizarre sundae and had taken a bite.

Claire tilted her head in thought for a moment, before going with, "They're not great, but it's more that there's a lot of new questions." She ate a couple more bites in silence, before adding. "Wu's alive."

"What?" Owen couldn't help his loud exclamation. It was probably the last thing he was expecting her to say. Not today. Not after the possibility of a hybrid dinosaur. Although… maybe he should've expected that. "Wait, did _he_ create that… that dinosaur?"

"What dinosaur?" Maisie asked.

"The dinosaur in the field test today," Claire explained. "From what we can tell, it's another hybrid."

"Another _Indoraptor_?" Maisie questioned, her face paling.

"No. No!" Claire quickly corrected her. "Not at all. And we're going off some shaky camera footage, so we don't know for sure."

"Did Wu … _make_ it?" Owen asked again.

"I don't know. Actually," Claire paused, licking some chocolate sauce off her spoon, "he was on TV today with a request."

"A request," Owen's eyes narrowed. "Why do I have a feeling I don't want to know what his request was."

"You don't," Claire agreed. She took a giant scoop of ice-cream, buying herself time from having to expand. "According to Wu he was badly burned after the events a few years ago. And that since then, he's been working on using the knowledge they've gained from his work on dinosaurs to come up with cures for _human_ diseases."

"Right," Owen scoffed, stabbing at his ice cream angrily.

"I'm just telling you what he said," Claire rolled her eyes. "I'm not saying I believe him. I don't think he was being 100% honest either. It's not in his nature."

"Isn't that a good thing, though? If he's working on cures?" Maisie interjected. "Isn't that what people want?"

"Yes," Claire drew out the answer. "It's just not that simple. Wu has… a history of not having the best judgement. Or, maybe more accurately, he's good at manipulating situations so it looks like he's doing something for everyone's best interest, while in fact he's focused on his own best interest."

Maisie looked a bit confused at that. "I don't know what you mean."

"Let's see," Claire hummed for a second, gathering her thoughts. "It's like when Owen offers to do the laundry while you and I work on your To Kill A Mockingbird assignment because he doesn't understand that book."

"Hey," Owen looked a little put out, and Maisie laughed. "You know, you're not immune to this either. You do it all the time with grocery shopping during algebra homework."

"Point proven," Claire grinned at Owen. "It's something most people do to some extent. Wu just takes it to another level. That's why," she looked over at Maisie, "I think we have to be careful on trusting what he's saying. It's probably all _true_ , but there's likely another level to the story that we're not hearing."

"Is he looking for people to volunteer to test his work?" Owen asked, looking concerned.

"No. And I'm not to sure about the legal and ethical ramifications of what he's doing. Any experimenting on people is highly controlled." She paused, looking thoughtful for a moment. "But, that's never stopped him before. I'm sure he's figured out a way around it. He said as part of their work they have been looking into the research Lockwood did on human cloning."

"So _he_ leaked everything," Owen slammed his hands against the table, pushing away with a huff.

"Likely," Claire nodded in agreement.

"Right, 'likely,'" Owen rolled his eyes.

"It doesn't matter," Claire said. "At this point, it's already been done. What's _more concerning_ –"

"Great, here goes," Owen sighed.

Claire just ignored him and continued on. "What's more concerning is that he said that the research they've been given is incomplete. Now, I don't know if that's actually _true_ , but he's using that as a way of saying that they need or want access to Maisie. That she's the 'key' to solving some challenges they've encountered."

"No way," Owen immediately shook his head. "Nope. Not happening."

"Agreed," Claire nodded.

"What does that mean?" Maisie asked. "What kind of _access_?"

"He didn't say."

"Doesn't matter," Owen stated, standing up and pacing the kitchen. "He's not getting anywhere close to you. I won't let him."

"Owen," Claire said warningly.

"No, Claire," Owen shook his head. "I refuse, _refuse_ , to let Wu have _anything_ to do with Maisie."

"I don't want him to either," Claire agreed. " _But_ , we don't even know what he's asking yet."

"I don't _care_ what he's asking," Owen fumed. "He has _no right_ …"

"Owen, you know things are never that simple," Claire said with a sigh, letting her spoon fall back into her bowl, before leaning back in her chair. "I wish they were, but they're not."

" _This_ is," Owen insisted. "There is nothing complicated about _this_."

"I don't get it, why does he need me?" Maisie interrupted.

"I don't know," Claire turned away from Owen and focused on Maisie. "He didn't get into a lot of detail, and to be honest, my background is much more in business than any of the science. I think we need to hear what he has to say. _Not_ because I think we should give him access to you, I _don't_ ," she turned and glared at Owen at that line, "but because I think there's something bigger going on, and the only way we'll know, is if we learn more."

"I just don't care," Owen slumped back down into his seat, sighing heavily. "At some point, can't we just say that this is no longer our problem? That it's someone else's turn to deal with it all?" He grabbed his spoon, swirling it through the now mostly melted ice cream, marshmallows bobbing along like little buoys. "This has been our life for so long. Surely we deserve a break now."

"Owen, this is still our problem. We can't push it on to someone else," Claire admonished him. "It's a fallout of our own making."

"We didn't ask him to make hybrids," Owen said petulantly.

" _I_ did," Claire reminded him, looking down at the table. "This all goes back to Jurassic World. I'm still part of what started this whole thing."

"Yeah, but you've atoned enough, you're running the DPG," Owen shook his head. "This shouldn't be _our_ problem. Let the government handle him."

At the word government, Claire's head snapped up, gaze catching Owen's, who looked surprised at her reaction. After the news about Wu she had completely forgotten about the visit from the OSI officers. That, however, she wasn't going to bring up in front of Maisie. She could see Owen was about to question her, but she made a show of glancing at her watch. "Wow, it's getting late," she faked a yawn. "Maisie, you've had a really long day. We don't have to finish talking about this tonight. Let's all sleep on it."

She stood up and started gathering the dishes from the table, Maisie following her lead. Owen just sat there, still stirring his ice cream, a brooding look on his face.

x x x

Owen's mind was whirling, too many competing issues fighting for dominance. When Claire and Maisie looked at him, as they were on their way out of the kitchen to head upstairs, he had replied with a comment of "I'm just going to get a quick run in, and then I'll be up."

Claire had given him a searching look, looking ready to ask something else, but she didn't. She just gave him a small nod. He wasn't sure if his mind was playing tricks on him, but he would've _sworn_ her expression, her whole _demeanour_ , had changed from that morning.

He hammered out a quick 5k on the treadmill, before starting the dishwasher and doing a cursory check of the doors and heading upstairs. He stopped by Maisie's room, where she was under the covers, book in hand, and reminded her not to stay up late, followed by a good night and I love you. That night, she replied with an I love you of her own.

Continuing down the hall, he entered the master bedroom. He could hear Claire moving about in the attached bathroom, and he took a moment to grab a pair of boxers and a t-shirt before he, too, turned towards the bathroom. Looking at the doorway, he paused, feeling unusually nervous about entering the bathroom with Claire still in there. Three years living together (plus their time before) and this was the first time he wasn't sure where their boundaries were. A self-confident man, he'd never been ashamed of his body, and from the beginning had been completely comfortable around Claire, clothed or not. Add in that Claire had always seemed to naturally gravitate towards him, touching his arm, holding his hand, _something_ , and it wasn't surprising the two had a very physically intimate relationship. But the last six months had been different.

Until now, standing there staring at the bathroom, pjs in one hand, he hadn't realized how much that part of their relationship had changed. When was the last time they'd had sex? When was the last time they'd been standing together, where he'd just slip his arm around her waist and she'd lean against his side? He couldn't even remember the last time they'd kissed, where it was more than a passing "hello" or "goodbye." How had he not noticed this change? There was no way that _Claire_ hadn't noticed, she was too detail oriented to have missed it. But she hadn't said anything. _Why_ hadn't she said anything?

He was still standing, somewhat frozen, in the bedroom when Claire exits the bathroom, seemingly a little surprised to see him. "Hey," she said softly, stopping in front of him, and reaching out to lightly touch his arm. He tried not to jump at the contact, but with his mind hyper-focused on how _little_ they had had recently, he couldn't help himself. He thought she looked a little hurt as she pulled her hand back, but it happened so fast, he wasn't sure what he was seeing and what he was imagining. "That was fast, did you have a good run?"

"It was fine. Just needed to get out some energy," Owen shrugged. "How is it that Maisie only ran away _this_ morning? It feels like it's been days."

"Years," Claire nodded in agreement, shoulders drooping.

"I've got–" Owen started to say, just as Claire continued.

"Something else hap–" They both stop, gesturing for the other to continue.

"Go ahead," Owen insisted.

"Some OSI officers showed up today," Claire let out on a sigh.

"What did _they_ want?" Owen looked concerned. "Do I even want to know?"

"They want the DPGs' help," Claire admitted. "They said the latest dinosaur field test, the one from today, took place in Nevada."

"Nevada?" Owen looked as surprised as Claire and Zia had been by the news. "There are dinosaurs back in the US?"

"It's not clear if they know this one is a hybrid," Claire added. "They didn't say that, and we didn't offer the information. But, I don't think there are dinosaurs _back_ , as much as there are dinosaurs being _created_ here."

"Fucking Wu," Owen growled and Claire nodded her agreement.

"Hybrid dinosaurs and Wu showing up in the same day?" Claire asked rhetorically, "Yeah, he's definitely involved."

"What do they want the DPG to do?"

"They had some story about capturing the dinosaur and wanting to move it out to the island."

"Oh no, no way," Owen shook his head. He was not an official member of the DPG. But, being Claire's husband, combined with his own knowledge about dinosaurs, had meant that he'd been kept in the loop with their activities. And, while he was not eager to jump in and deal with anything dinosaur related, he'd shared his opinions when asked, especially about Blue and dinosaur behaviour.

"We agree," Claire reassured him, reaching out to touch his arm again. This time he didn't flinch, and she rested her hand there. "We didn't promise anything, and I'm not sure we're getting the whole story anyway."

"Surprise surprise," Owen rolled his eyes.

"Anyway, until they actually capture the dinosaur, and this one killed at least _five_ people Owen, it's a moot point."

"You know they'll be back," Owen just said, and Claire nodded in agreement. "Will this ever be over?"

"Someday," Claire said hopefully, before giving his arm a squeeze and letting go. She wrinkled her nose, "You could use a shower."

"That's my plan," Owen raised his pjs with a wave of his hand, before continuing in the direction of the bathroom.

x x x

After a quick shower, Owen was at the sink brushing his teeth when he saw it. His ring, resting on the edge of his sink, in the same place he often placed his dog tags on the rare occasion he took them off. He glanced out the bathroom door, but from his spot he couldn't see Claire. As he slid the ring back on, he was surprised by the overwhelming sense of relief it brought. He hadn't been sure how he was going to ask for it back. It must mean something, for her to have given it back, right? The same way it felt like something had shifted earlier in the bedroom. They may not be standing side by side again, but he no longer felt like they were on opposite sides.

Finishing up in the bathroom, he headed back out into the bedroom. The main light was off, and Claire, similarly to Maisie, was under the covers on her side, holding a book. She had also turned his light on, which he took as a sign that she was expecting him to stay. He didn't question it, just dropping his clothes in the laundry basket before heading for the bed.

As he climbed under the cover, he switched off his light, brain too overwhelmed to even think of picking up a book. He was lying on his back, realizing he'd never second guessed his own behaviour as much as he had that evening. When working with the raptors, he'd always been confident in every move he made. Knowing that even the slightest hesitation would show weakness and he'd lose his title as alpha in a blink of an eye. But now, he wasn't sure what to do. Turning on his side, felt like either he'd be turning his back on her or would result in him staring straight at her, and he wasn't sure he could handle that scrutiny right now. So, even though he was normally a side sleeper, he was stretched out on his back, not moving. He wasn't sure where to put his arms and hands and so they were crossed on his chest. He almost laughed, when he realized he was in essentially the funeral pose, and he squirmed, trying to get comfortable, arms moving to his sides, as he closed his eyes and tried to will himself asleep.

A few minutes later, Claire clicked off her own light and she shuffled down in the bed. The room was almost pitch black, as their curtains were still tightly closed against any roaming reporter eyes, and so he couldn't see what she was doing.

He almost jumped when he felt her fingers graze across the back of his wrist, mentally scolding himself for flinching. She moved to pull her hand away, but he was faster, threading his fingers through hers. He finally turned onto his side towards her, bringing his other hand over to join in grasping her hand, tucking the group under his chin. He let out a sigh, head bent, lips just barely brushing over her knuckles. She didn't say anything, and neither did he, both succumbing to sleep.

* * *

 _I need to give another shout-out to **EliseCollier** for helping me with a few sections I was stuck on and providing the examples for Claire and Owen avoiding homework they don't like._

 _Thanks for reading and sticking with me. Still looking to be 11 chapters (ignoring the prologue) and a potential epilogue. I've written up through 9 and most of 11, so the story is coming together. And the happy ending has been written. :)_

 _Please drop me a comment, I love to hear what you thought and any predictions you have about how it's going to wrap up and resolve. Stuff starts to move quicker now. :) And you get a happier Clawen ending in this one._

 _x x x_

 _For my writer recommendation, I'm going to recommend **Ellana-san**. She's another writer who hasn't written recently, but wrote some great pieces after the release of JW. _Consulting Saves Lives _and_ Salvaging the Wreckage _are my favourites. The first is one of those "change one things and how does it affect everything else?" stories, where the date went well. It's both close to the JW story and not. Salvaging the Wreckage takes places a few months after the fallout of JW, and, well, the title explains it. :)_


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Claire had just tucked herself away in her home office, and Owen and Maisie were settling down in the living room to watch what felt like their 100th movie in the last week when the doorbell rang. Owen groaned at the interruption, but hit pause on the opening credits as he got up. With the reporters still en mass at the end of the driveway, he knew that if someone made it to the front door it was important. Everyone else has been smart and had just called.

If it wasn't for grocery delivery, he doesn't know (or want to think about) what they'd have been eating. And even that had been an adventure; the reporters wanting a breakdown of their order. Really? Were there people out there who actually cared that they bought apples but not oranges?

He approached the door and looked through the peephole to see two people dressed in dark suits. Claire's comments from last night of the OSI visitors at the DPG immediately came back to mind. For a moment, he debated not answering the door, but they reached out and rang the bell again and Claire called out from her study, "Owen, can you get that?"

He took a deep breath, before opening the door a crack. He wasn't going to give the reporters a clear shot into his house if he could help it. "What do you want?" he growled at the visitors, hoping to scare them away.

"We're from the Operations of Special Investigations," the male stated. "We'd like to talk with you, Mr. Grady."

"Me?" Owen was surprised. He was sure they were back to talk with Claire. "Aren't you here for Claire?"

"We talked with Ms. Dearing yesterday," this time it was the woman who spoke. "We have something different we'd like to talk to you about. Can we come in?"

He hesitated for a moment, looking over his shoulder at Maisie, who was waiting for him on the couch, before he nodded slowly, and opened the door just enough for the two to enter. He wasn't happy that these government officers were getting a chance to even see Maisie, and he asked them to wait by the door. He then took a moment to talk with Maisie, asking her to please go upstairs to her room while he talked with them, and that they would start the movie once they were gone. Maisie looked ready to argue, but he gave her a look and she sighed, before heading up the stairs. He then waved the two OSI members into the room.

"I just need one more second," Owen told them, as they sat on the two chairs in the room. He quickly headed down the hall to Claire's office. He knocked, to be polite, but he was already opening the door as he did so. Thankfully, while she was busy working, she wasn't on the phone so he wasn't interrupting a meeting. Entering the office, he closed the door behind him as she looked up.

"Who was at the door?"

"There's two people here from the OSI," Owen replied.

"I told them I'd get back to them in a few days," Claire looked confused. "Why would they come here and not the DPG offices?"

"They said they want to speak to me."

"Oh?" Claire looked even more confused at that information, leaning back in her chair. "Why?"

"I don't know," Owen shook his head. "But, if you have time, can you come listen?"

"Sure, no problem," Claire was already closing the lid of her laptop and pushing away from her desk. She followed him back down the hall to the living room.

"Mr. Wood, Ms. Spencer," Claire greeted them, as she entered the room. They both stood upon her entrance.

"As we informed Mr. Grady, we're here to talk to him, not you," Mr. Wood stated.

"And I'd like her to hear what you have to say," Owen said, before adding firmly: "I'm going to tell her either way, so you might as well let her hear it up front."

Mr. Wood and Ms. Spencer again exchanged a look, before they both nodded. Ms. Spencer waved them towards the couch and the four took a seat.

x x x

Similar to their visit to the DPG, the visit was over pretty quickly. Claire showed them to the door, while Owen remained on the couch in disbelief. When she re-entered the room and took a seat beside him, he turned and said "This is not good."

At the same time, Claire said, "You're not going."

"Claire…" Owen sighed, not wanting to start there or even _have_ that conversation.

"No," Claire said with finality as she shook her head and Owen decided not to press on it for the time being. "I can't believe they killed it," Claire whispered after a few minutes of silence passed. "And I know I should _feel_ bad, but I don't."

"I can't believe they thought their plan was going to work," Owen looked a little shocked. "I can't believe they were that _naive_!"

"They know more than they're telling us," Claire stated. "They wouldn't be here, asking for your help, if they didn't have something else already planned."

"Agreed," Owen nodded. "They must know the location of others, here or abroad."

"You think there's more around here?" Claire looked sick to her stomach at the thought.

"There's no way Wu only made one more. He's too much of an egomaniac for that." Owen paused, thinking about Wu. "But, with his current medical needs, I don't think he'd have ventured far, definitely not over to, like, Russia or somewhere. So I'm betting all the work he's done is relatively local."

Claire just looked even more green. "What do you think their main plan is? I mean, I agree that we can't have dinosaurs roaming the US. But, I also find it difficult to believe that they just want to hand them over to the DPG when caught. Not after everything we went through to get an agreement for the DPG to assist with the original capturing and relocation. Not with the way the government continues to dangle our license to run the island in front of us."

"Yeah, there's no way that handing them over is their end goal. The dinosaurs are worth too much," Owen chuckled dryly. "If that was their goal, they'd be giving you guys the coordinates and saying 'go get 'em.'" He shook his head, before leaning back on the couch and staring up at the ceiling. "We're never going to escape them, are we?"

"I still don't want you to go," Claire whispered, ignoring his comment.

"They need my help," Owen reminded her.

"Our help," Claire countered.

"No, my help."

"You can't do this without me," Claire turned to look at him angrily, but he was still staring up at the ceiling, ignoring her gaze.

There was a pause, and then Owen sat up, turning to her. "I'm not an idiot you know."

"Wait, a what?" Claire was confused. Where did that come from?

"I don't need you by my side for everything. You don't need to hold my hand. I'm a big boy," Owen's gaze darted around the room, unable to maintain contact.

"Owen," Claire sighed. He didn't say anything, and so she followed up with, "That's not… Owen, I _want_ to go with you."

"So you've said," Owen said bitterly.

"No, not because I don't _think_ you can do it. I _know_ you can. But–" Claire trailed off.

"But what?"

"We barely survived the last two times," it was Claire's turn to ignore his gaze.

"But we did."

"Exactly, _we_ did. Together. What if it goes differently because–" she can't finish her sentence. She finally meets his gaze again, their eyes locked in battle.

"It'll be fine," Owen tried to be reassuring.

"You don't know that."

"You know me. I won't let anything happen to you. Or to Maisie."

"And _I_ don't want anything to happen to _you_ ," Claire cried back. "I know you'll protect us. I don't doubt that. But Owen, I can't do this without you. I don't _want_ to do this without you."

They both go quiet, neither sure how to follow that up. Claire couldn't help it and her eyes were focused on the ring he was wearing again. She'd woken up that morning and noticed it was no longer beside his sink. When she saw it on him at breakfast, she felt like the weight of the world had come off her shoulders. She hadn't been sure how to bring it up with him, and in the end had decided that instead of saying something, she'd just offer it back and see what he'd do. She was relieved to see that he had put it back on; that he didn't think they were unfixable.

Owen followed her gaze to his ring, his right hand itching with need to start spinning it around his finger. He had wondered all morning if she was going to say something, but she hadn't.

"The last two… we survived together. We _always_ survive together. Don't make this time different," Claire finally stated softly.

"Claire–" Owen started, only to be cut off as Maisie appeared in the doorway.

"You're leaving?" Maisie asked, eyes wide.

"Leaving?"

"I heard what they said," Maisie admitted. "I was sitting on the stairs. Are you going with them?" She entered the room fully, approaching them on the couch. Stopping in front of him, she implored, "Don't go."

Owen looked over at Claire, but she had the same expression as Maisie.

"Kiddo," Owen sighed, reaching out to grasp one of Maisie's hands, pulling her closer. "Nothing's been decided." Claire gave a non-subtle snort at that, but Owen chose to ignore it.

"I don't think they're being honest," Maisie stated matter-of-factly. "I don't trust them."

At that, both Claire and Owen could barely suppress their grins. They were both thinking the same thing, 'like father/mother, like daughter.'

"I don't either," Owen agreed with her. "But it's too early to make a decision."

"I don't know why you'd _want_ to go," Maisie huffed.

"I thought you'd be all for saving the dinosaurs," Owen looked a little surprised.

"Hybrids aren't dinosaurs," Maisie stated firmly. "I don't get why you'd want to go through all of that again."

"I don't _want_ to," Owen sighed. "To be honest, I'm more worried about what the real endgame is. If I'm there…" He trailed off, before smiling at Maisie. "And hey, we got _you_ out of the last one. I'd go through it all over again for that."

x x x

Claire tucked herself back in her home office for the afternoon. With the government offer and Wu's reappearance, she couldn't afford to _not_ be working. But, with Maisie back home and now the government offer to _Owen_ , she also doesn't want to be away from home.

She's 80% sure that Owen won't take the government up on their offer. But that's not sure enough for her to not be there in case he changed his mind. And even though her door was shut, she could still hear bits of sound from the rest of the house, and she took comfort from those noises; from the knowledge that Maisie and Owen were both nearby.

She was neck deep in financial reports, trying to sort out and understand how the current news had been affecting their donations, when the phone rang. She answered it without checking the caller ID, expecting a call from the DPGs' accountant.

"Hello?"

"Claire, so nice to hear your voice."

She bolted upright, financials forgotten as Wu's voice clearly came through the receiver.

"Henry?" She met Wu when she was 19 and he'd always called her Claire. She didn't mind at first, but as she moved up the corporate ladder, it felt odd and discomforting how casual he was with her, but more formal or respectful of titles of others. And, one day, after a particularly frustrating series of investor phone calls, Wu calling her Claire was the last straw, and she had replied "Henry." He had looked a little shocked and unsettled by the familiarity, but hadn't said anything. Ever since that day, she had told herself she'd follow his lead. If he was ever willing to call her Ms. Dearing, she'd call him Dr. Wu. But not until that day. It had yet to come (and she doubted it ever would).

"Oh good, I was afraid you wouldn't recognize my voice," Wu said smoothly. "It's been what, six years since we last talked?"

"You're a hard person to forget," Claire replied, grinding her teeth. Why was he calling her? "Why are you reaching out now?"

"Well, I'm sure you saw my news conference the other day–"

"Didn't see it," Claire lied, interrupting him.

"Oh don't try that," Wu chuckled. "We both know that even if you hadn't caught it live, you would've had a copy on your desks minutes after it aired."

"Get to the point Henry," Claire sighed. "I've got a lot of things to do and I don't have time to talk to you."

"That's how you treat an old friend?" Wu almost sounded offended, but Claire knew it was fake. "I thought you'd _want_ to talk to me."

"We're not friends, Henry," Claire rolled her eyes.

"And you know what I want," Wu ignored her comment. "Or, should I say, need."

"You're not getting anywhere _near_ Maisie."

"Why Claire, I thought you were all about saving things these days. Isn't that what you're constantly proclaiming on behalf of your little non-profit."

"That's different."

"How?" Wu pressed. "Because they're dinosaurs? I would think you'd place human lives above dinosaurs."

"And I would think you'd get sick of playing God."

"I'm not _playing_ God," Wu disagreed. "I'm just pushing the boundaries of scientific knowledge."

"However you justify it, it doesn't matter," Claire shook her head, even though Wu couldn't see her. "It was one thing, bringing back extinct species. And working to _save_ existing species from going extinct. But the hybrids? I may have supported the creation of the _Indominus Rex_ , but it stopped there. Do you not remember how many people _died_ Henry? How many of our colleagues, _our friends_ , we lost?" Claire took a deep breath, her mind immediately going back to the moment her nephews told her about Zara. She pushed the memory aside and continued. "We pushed the envelope too far with that one. But you _didn't learn_ , did you? Three years later you pop back onto the scene with the _Indoraptor_. And, as if that wasn't enough, you were _selling dinosaurs_ to _arms dealers_. To _mercenaries_. What did you think was going to happen?!"

"Oh Claire," Wu said with a tsk. "You think this research is _easy_? Or _cheap_? You think if _I_ wasn't doing this, no one would be?"

"Oh don't try that line with me," Claire shot back, anger filling her voice. "I _know_ how tight a lid we kept on this research. Trust me, if others knew how to do what we were doing, Jurassic World would not have been the _only_ theme park with dinosaurs. They would've been in every zoo around the world. If you weren't doing it, this knowledge would finally cease to exist, as it should've years ago."

"You can't put the genie back in the bottle, Claire," Wu disagreed. "Even if I wasn't here, I've never worked alone. I've trained my team well and they're loyal to _me_."

"Great, so there's a bunch of egomaniacs running around," Claire scoffed. "Why should that make me want to help you?"

"Maisie's not your daughter," Wu reminded her. "You don't get to say what she can and can't do."

"She is _our_ daughter. We're her guardians. She's not having _anything_ to do with you. You already have enough genetic power. I can't imagine giving _you_ the so-called 'key' to human cloning," Claire was brimming with anger, ready to overflow. "Owen and I, we're in complete agreement on this. You won't change our minds."

"I can tell I won't be changing your mind _today_ ," Wu stated. "But, you may find that you don't have a choice."

"Is that a threat?" Claire was suddenly standing behind her desk, no longer able to sit still.

"No, not a threat," Wu dismissed. "Maisie's not so young anymore, remember that."

With that, Wu hung up and Claire let her phone fall to the desk. She was breathing heavily, hands clenched on the edge of the desk as she rested her weight on them, head hanging. She counted to ten, but was no calmer. She repeated it again, and then a third time. Raising her eyes, she caught sight of the small cactus sitting on the corner of her desk. Before she could stop herself, she picked it up, chucking it at the wall. She regretted it almost immediately, watching as the soil left a trail down the wall, the plant pot shattering onto the floor in a pile of ceramic shards, with the poor cactus landing lopsided on top.

Her office door flew open only seconds later, Owen bursting into the room, looking around frantically, as if he expected to find someone else in the room with her. Something he should protect her from. He stopped abruptly, gaze landing on the shattered plant pot on the floor. His gaze hovered there for a few moments before he looked over at Claire. "Everything… okay?" Clearly, it was not.

"Just a frustrating phone call," Claire admitted.

"If you need to take some anger out on something, I'm sure there's something more deserving of punishment then Fred," Owen shook his head, already moving towards the cactus. He squatted and surveyed the scene, before raising his gaze back to Claire. "I think we've got another pot, we might be able to save him."

"It's just a cactus, Owen, it doesn't have a name," Claire groaned, but Owen's actions did bring a hint of a smile to her face. He had, in her opinion, a bizarre habit of naming _everything_ alive. He was not the kind of guy who named his car, but a plant, yep. It made for one very difficult and awkward summer when he tried to help out in the vegetable garden. Claire enjoyed salad, but eating a salad when your two dinner mates were commenting on how Roberta the tomato and George the cucumber had excellent flavour was a little off putting. After that summer, the vegetable garden became hers and hers alone.

"Don't listen to her, Fred," Owen told the cactus that was still lying lopsided on the floor, as he carefully picked it up. "I'll get you a new home." He paused on his way out the door, looking over his shoulder back at Claire. "Are you sure everything's okay?"

Claire debated telling him that Wu called, but didn't really want to deal with _that_ conversation. She told Wu 'no' but his not quite but almost a threat still lingered. But telling Owen, that would be like lighting a fuse. There were enough other things to deal with right now. It wasn't worth him flying off the handle about something that probably meant nothing. "Yeah, it's just been a long… I don't know, day, week, month? Take your pick."

"Yeah," Owen gave her a searching look, as if he _knew_ she was not telling him everything. But he didn't push it, instead, leaving her office in search of a new home for Fred.

x x x

Later that evening, after Maisie had gone to her room, Owen and Claire found themselves both puttering around on the main floor, cleaning up the kitchen, and putting things back where they belong. Or, more accurately Claire was puttering around, and Owen was nervously hanging around in the doorway, taking a few steps in about to say something, before backing out and disappearing briefly before repeating again.

On his 4th entrance, Claire stopped what she was doing, turning to him and asked, "What's up?" It was not like Owen to be so indecisive. He either said what he wanted to say or he avoided at all costs. This weird in-between behaviour was confusing. She leaned against the counter and raised an eyebrow in question, as he paused in the doorway looking a bit like a deer caught in the headlights.

She gave him a few moments to gather himself, and when he didn't say anything, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind that could be causing his behaviour, "No, please don't tell me you told them yes."

That snapped Owen out of his trance, eyes widening. "No, of course not," he shook his head. "I wouldn't make that decision without talking to you." At that comment he winced, an action that Claire caught.

"O–kay, I'm not really sure how to take that," Claire said slowly.

"I've got something I have to tell you," Owen said, straightening up as he mustered his courage.

"Is this about your–" Claire didn't finish, but her gaze dropping to his hand was indication enough as to where her mind was going.

"What?" Owen looked at the ring on his finger, before returning his gaze to her. "No! No no no. I'm not doing this right." He sighed, trying to gather his thoughts, although why he thought it would work now, when he had been trying to figure out how to start this conversation for the last 30 minutes, he wasn't sure. "I… Can you just promise you won't say anything until I finish?"

Claire wanted to argue, she was not good at holding back, and her inclination had always been to say what was on her mind. But as he fidgeted in front of her in his obvious nervousness about what he was about to say, she found herself nodding. "Sure." She settled back against the counter, letting it take her weight, hands braced on either side of her.

"Six months ago," Owen started, and he saw her eyes widen immediately. "Just hear me out, please." He raised a hand, as her mouth was already opening to interject. She gave him a nod, shoulders tensing, hands starting to clench the counter. "It's not bad, I promise," Owen tried to reassure her, but it wasn't helped when he followEd with, "At least, I don't think it's bad." There was another pause, and he shuffled a bit farther into the kitchen. "Six months ago, I was approached by Dr. Geller at UCSF," again, Claire looked ready to interrupt, and Owen quickly clarified, "PhD, not medical. She was working with a few others on submitting a proposal for a contract on a study the DoD and VA want to conduct on service dogs. Because of my work with the raptors, and my PhD work on animal behaviour before that in the Navy, along with being a vet myself, she wanted me to join the proposal as a team member. If it got accepted, the project is likely to take a minimum of three years." He paused briefly, to try to get a sense of what Claire was thinking. He could tell she'd relaxed slightly, her hands not clenching the counter quite so tightly. So far, so good. "I got an email from Maria – Dr. Geller – today, and our proposal was accepted. She wants me to confirm that I'm in." He stopped after that, waiting for Claire to say something, but she was just watching him, silently. When the pause started to get drawn out, he asked, "So?"

Claire straightened, although she stayed leaning against the counter and brought her hands in front of her, posture loosening. She had a lot of questions, and she wasn't sure where she wanted to start; what questions were the most important, and what ones could wait. "I'm… I'm not sure what to ask first," she finally admitted, before letting a bunch of questions loose. "I mean, why haven't you said anything? What would your involvement be? What about your job? And service dogs? Are you… sure you're okay to do this?" She paused, giving him a concerned look. "I've brought up getting a dog before, hell, _Maisie_ has brought it up a _lot,_ and you've always been very adamant you don't want one."

"What do you want me to answer first?" Owen leaned against the fridge opposite her. He no longer looked (or felt) as tense as he was moments ago.

"Why didn't you say anything?" As curious as she was about the study, about what it would mean for Owen to take the job, Claire couldn't help but fixate on the fact it had been six months and he never said a thing. "Six months, Owen. You've known about this for _six months_. Is this why… Is this why you've been so distant? Is this what's been bothering you? Why didn't you _tell me_?"

Owen had the grace to look ashamed at the questions. His reasons six months ago didn't seem nearly as important today, as Claire was looking at him for answers, her arms crossed over her chest in a protective stance. "I didn't know what to think," Owen finally said. "When she approached me, Dr. Geller, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. Wasn't sure if I was going to say 'yes' or not. I _like_ my job. But lately it hasn't felt like _enough_. _I_ haven't felt like enough."

"Why wait six months?"

"I didn't _mean_ too," Owen tried to cover for himself. "I just wanted some time to sort through the idea myself. I had so many questions. I didn't know if I could handle working with animals again, not after Blue. I wasn't sure about the change to my schedule, because this would mean I _wouldn't_ be as flexible with being able to be home for Maisie. It would also mean more paperwork, more meetings, and less time outdoors. For every pro, there was a con. Barry had good suggestions on how to structure what I'd be possibly doing, so that I wouldn't end up in the same place as I did with Blue. And my dad–"

"Wait," Claire paused him, raising a hand. "You couldn't come to _me_ but you talked with Barry, and with your dad?"

"It's not the same," Owen argued. "It doesn't affect _them_ the way it would affect us. They could talk about it from a more unbiased view."

"Right, it doesn't affect _them_ ," Claire agreed. "But it affects _me_. It affects _Maisie_. All the more reason you should've talked to _me_. God, Owen, don't you think I want what's best for you? That I _want_ you to love your job? That we could work together to figure out after school care or… or whatever?"

"I _wanted_ to tell you," Owen said, his voice rising. "I _want_ to have these types of conversations with you. But Claire, you've _always_ known what you want. You always see everything in black and white, and I didn't want you–" He cut himself off, realizing what he was about to say wasn't going to make things better.

"Didn't want what? Me to give you my opinion?" Claire correctly deduced where he was going. "Owen, we're supposed to be a team. These rings," she held up her left hand, "are suppose to _mean_ something. That we work _together_ and that we talk about big decisions like this. I'm happy for you Owen, I _am_. This is a great opportunity and the job sounds perfect for you. I know we can figure out a solution for Maisie." She took a deep breath before finishing. "It worries me, it _terrifies_ me, that you don't feel like you could come to _me_ about something like this. What are we? If I'm the _last_ person you tell? If I make you too _scared_ or _nervous_ to tell? What are we? Because, clearly, _something_ isn't working."

"Claire," Owen interjected.

"No Owen, I'm _allowed_ to be upset about this," Claire shook her head, standing up straighter, but tightening her crossed arms, hugging herself protectively. She could feel her whole body shaking, whether it was with anger or fear, she wasn't quite sure. She'd never felt so disoriented in her life. Lately, she was never sure if their next interaction was going to result in it feeling like everything was okay or that they were heading towards a complete collapse of their marriage. Was it only this morning that she had woke up to find he'd migrated across the bed, pulling her to him in his sleep, limbs entwined? Were they trying too hard to make this work and ignoring signs that it shouldn't? She didn't want to believe that. She _wanted_ it to work, and most of the time, the _vast majority_ of the time, it did work.

"I know I should've told you," Owen admitted, stepping towards her. He stopped when she flinched backwards, the counter behind her preventing her from actually backing away.

"Then why _didn't_ you?" Claire pressed again. "You've had _six months_ to tell me."

"I just–" Owen sighed, frustrated with his inability to express himself properly. He braced one hand on the counter, and the other scrubs angrily over his jaw. "I needed something that was _mine_. I needed to do something for _me_." He paused, frustration radiating off of him. "I _love_ you Claire. I love Maisie. I love our life. But I'm ready for _more_. Maisie's getting older. She doesn't need me to be home everyday for her. Construction is fun, it's rewarding, but it's not _challenging_. I'm ready for that challenge again. I want to be more than the guy puttering around in the garage."

"And you didn't think I'd support you?" Claire's voice sounded hollow to her own ears. She was trying desperately to wrap her mind around everything. How had she missed so much? What had she done that made him question _her_? That he felt he couldn't turn to _her_? "Do you really think that _little_ of me?"

"Everyday I didn't tell you, I felt worse. But everyday I didn't tell you made it _that much_ harder to say something," Owen laughed hollowly, no actual mirth in the situation. "It's not _you_ , it's _me_."

"Please, _please_ , tell me you didn't just use the 'not you, it's me' line," Claire pushed away from the counter, ready to storm past him.

"Wait, Claire," Owen gently grabbed her arm as she moved by him, halting her movement. "I know I'm not explaining this right. And I _know_ we need to have this talk. It's been building for a while. It's probably long overdue." Claire nodded, she'd been having similar thoughts. "I think before we do though, I think we need to both calm down a bit," Owen could feel his own heart racing. Telling her about the job wasn't supposed to end up being a talk about the future of their marriage. "There's so much going on right now. There's the new hybrid dinosaurs and the OSI to worry about. And then there's Wu and Maisie…"

At the mention of Wu, Claire was reminded of the fact that she hadn't been completely truthful with Owen either, having not mentioned the earlier call. But either way, he was right. Ever since the reporters showed up on their lawn, and they'd been almost completely constrained to their house, emotions had been bubbling up. It was inevitable they'd eventually spill over. But that didn't make now the right time for this discussion. In fact, it probably made it the _worst_ time. She met his gaze, placing her hand on top of the one on her arm. "Okay. You're right. This isn't the best time for this. And probably not the best place," her eyes lift briefly towards the ceiling, thinking of Maisie upstairs. "Owen, I've only ever wanted… I just … I want to make you happy." He nodded softly and she squeezed his hand lightly before letting go.

* * *

 _Well, at least Claire and Owen are talking now? (Ducks for cover)._

 _I have a complete rough draft of the rest of the story now! I'm super excited for you guys to read it. I think you'll like the ending. And someone from this chapter will have an important role later - can you guess who?_

 _Thanks for reading and being on this journey with me. I'd love to know what you're thinking. As I shift more into editing and less writing for this story it's time to figure out what my next piece may be. Ideas?_

 _x x x_

 _This week's author recommendation goes to **Almighty_Hat** , who writes over at AO3. Specifically the fic _Found In Translation _. I'm not usually a fan of crossovers, but this one both is and isn't. It takes place in the world of Harry Potter because there are wizards and Owen is one. But none of the HP characters make an appearance, and set up of him being a wizard (and a parseltongue) makes for a great setup for a different fallout for Jurassic World._


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

The following morning, Claire received a call from Zia saying that the OSI agents had contacted the DPG about their offer and she wasn't sure how to respond, besides attempting to delay them. Claire still wasn't ready to head back into the office and leave Maisie, and so she suggested that Zia and Franklin come over to the house so they could discuss it. She decided not to mention on the phone that Owen had also received an offer the previous day, figuring it would be something the four could all discuss in person.

The two arrived just after lunch. Claire could hear them well before they made it to the door, a combination of the increased volume from the reporters and Zia's voice cutting through it all with her not-so-friendly language telling them to back the hell away. She waited until she heard them on the porch before pulling the door open and letting them slide into the house. She quickly shut the door behind them.

Owen and Maisie were currently sitting on the couch in the middle of a retro video game war, racing their Mario Karts along the treacherous rainbow road. Maisie continued to out play Owen on the more recent games, so he'd occasionally pull out their classic SNES, a system he still managed to maintain his reign over.

After offering them drinks (they both declined), Claire ushered them towards the living room. Franklin immediately honing in on the game, joined Maisie and Owen, adding his own commentary; questioning why Owen wasn't attempting the secret jump move so he could lap Maisie.

Zia and Claire hung back by the front door for a moment, Zia giving her friend a searching gaze. "Are you doing okay?" Zia asked. "I know it's been a tough few weeks."

"I'm fine," Claire replied, tight lipped and refusing to meet her friends eyes.

Zia sighed, as she reached out and gently squeezed Claire's hand. "Claire, you don't have to tell me anything. You know that. But, if you want to–" Claire started to protest, but Zia shushed her. "If you want to, know that I'm here, and I won't judge. With everything that's been happening, you're _allowed_ to not be okay, you know. You don't always have to be fine."

Claire bit her lip, looking into the living room for a moment, at the smiles and laughter of the three watching and playing games, before returning her gaze to Zia. She let out a deep sigh, shoulders falling, "You're right, things aren't great. But, I don't want to talk about it right now. I don't have energy to talk about it right now. One crisis at a time." She gave Zia a wan smile. "I really can't deal with thinking about everything right now, but I do know I can talk to you. Thanks."

Zia nodded, still concerned, but letting Claire take the lead. She knew it wouldn't help if she pressed; in fact, it'd likely make everything worse. Clapping her hands together, she entered the living room with a cheerful, "Hey Maisie. Hey Owen."

She was barely acknowledged, as Owen raced his kart through the finish line, a fraction of a second before Maisie's red shell could take him out, his kart spinning out but his 1st place finish already assured. He dropped the controller, raising his hands above his head in triumph.

Claire just rolled her eyes, and entered the room too, moving towards the tv. "Okay, enough games for now," she flicked the tv off, to the sound of three large groans. "Seriously, all the two of you have done for the last day and a half is sit on that couch and watch movies or play games."

"What else _can_ I do," Maisie pouted. "I can't go outside, so I can't ride my bike." Her smile brightened momentarily. "Unless you'll let me ride it _inside_?" Claire didn't even bother to dignify that with a response, just raising a single eyebrow. Owen snickered beside Maisie, who sighed. "Fine. What _can_ I do then?"

"Read a book?" Claire suggested. "Or how about tackling your homework? Remember, I'm on those emails too. I know you've got stuff to work on."

Maisie groaned. "Really? With everything going on I have to do _homework_?" She turned towards Owen, pleadingly, who in turn looked to Claire.

"That doesn't work on me guys," Claire ignored the puppy dog eyes now coming at her from both. "Come on Maisie, upstairs. You can probably get it all done by the time we finish our meeting. Maybe we can convince them to stay for dinner and order pizza." She added the final offer as bait, but she was planning it all along. It had been too long just the three of them stuck in the house, they could use some company. Maisie groaned again, but headed up the stairs after another look towards Owen had him also shooing her out of the room.

"I don't know why I can't listen," Maisie grumbled on her way out. "It affects me too."

As she left, the four adults all found seats around the room, Owen and Franklin on the couch, and Claire and Zia in the stuffed side chairs. Claire started the conversation by telling Zia and Franklin about Owen's visit from the OSI agents the previous day.

"They want you to go and do _what_ exactly?" Zia tried to clarify. "Are they hoping you're, like, a 'dinosaur whisperer' or something?"

"Or something," Owen agreed with a nod.

"You're not going, right?" Franklin asked. "Like, that sounds like it would be stupid to say yes to."

"I'm not–" Owen groaned but managed to avoid sending a glare towards Claire like he wanted to. "I haven't decided." He paused, this time looking towards Claire, who was adamantly refusing to look at him. "I mean, _we_ haven't decided yet." He sighed deeply. "I don't know what to say. That's the whole point of you guys coming over. There's obviously something bigger at play here."

"Now _that_ I completely agree with," Zia nodded. "I don't agree with you going, I'm with Franklin on that being stupid. But they're definitely not telling us everything."

"I agree," Claire joined in. "They didn't mention that the dinosaur was a hybrid when they were here, and there is no way they _still_ don't know that. You guys figured it out within minutes of that clip being released."

"The theory has started circulating on social media now too," Franklin waved his phone. "There's a few people who did exactly what we did. But most of the people re-tweeting it are more along the lines of 'hey did you hear this?' or 'do you think this is true?' So while it's been widely talked about, it hasn't quite moved into the 'accepted as fact' category yet."

"Doesn't help that the president somehow still goes around talking about how dinosaurs never existed," Zia mumbled.

"Ignoring _that_ ," Claire rolled her eyes at Zia, "I think we should consider trying to come to a joint agreement between what Owen wants to do and what the DPG wants. They approached us separately, and there's no way they didn't know that Owen and I are married. They were trying to work around us, so I think we need to come back united." There was just the slightest pause after the word married, but she was betting (and hoping) that no one except maybe Owen noticed.

"So it's really two things they want," Zia summarized. "They want Owen to work with them on the capturing and so-called rescuing of the dinosaurs, and they want the DPG to be willing to accommodate these dinosaurs at the sanctuary."

"Why 'so-called'?" Franklin questioned. "I mean, they apparently _have_ rescued one so far."

"They've _recaptured_ one," Zia agreed. "I don't know that we can say they've rescued it. We don't know what they want to do yet."

"Of course," Owen groaned, hand hitting his forehead in exasperation. "I can't believe we were so stupid and didn't see it before!"

"See what?" Franklin asked.

"These dinosaurs got sold for one main reason," Owen reminded everyone. "To be militarized. I mean, this goes back _years_. Back at Jurassic World, this is what Hoskin's and InGen wanted longterm out of the raptor project. There's _no way_ the government is going to be happy being the _one_ country that is _not_ currently working on this."

"By why involve the DPG?" Zia didn't sound convinced. "We've never given any indication that we would support anything like that."

"Because we're the perfect cover," Claire sighed, connecting the final dots. "If they can say they're working with the DPG to relocate the dinosaurs to the sanctuary, no one is going to suspect anything."

"But the sanctuary is restricted," Franklin reminded them. "Once the dinosaurs are there, they're safe."

" _But_ , the restriction was put in place _by_ the government," Claire pointed out. "I'm not saying we were against that designation. _I_ supported it and I still think it's a good idea. But the restriction also means that there are fewer eyes that would be watching what happens once the dinosaurs arrived."

"And the cameras?" Zia asked. "How are they going to get around those? We put them all over."

"Not _all_ over," Franklin disagreed. This was an area he knew well, as over the years and growth of the non-profit, he'd become in charge of the online streaming implementation. He'd lead the team planning camera locations and choosing what cameras to showcase on their website. He would also capture stills and small video clips to highlight on their social media. "We've covered a lot of the island, but it's a _huge_ place. We couldn't cover it all. Also, cameras go down continually, whether it's from interactions with the dinosaurs or weather or just equipment failure. But, besides that, there are buildings and other secure areas on the island that don't have camera coverage. You've used them yourself, Zia, for when the dinosaurs are sick and need extended treatment. Can't always have them out in the main open areas."

Claire gave Franklin a proud look, happy to see how much growth and confidence he'd developed over the years. "Franklin's right," she nodded. "As much as we promote transparency across the island, it would be relatively easy for the government to set something up and us to not know what's going on. The DPG isn't big enough to keep permanent staff on the island – all the people full time are from the military. That's part of our agreement."

"Okay, assuming we're right," Zia started.

"Oh, we're _definitely_ right," Owen replied, relaxing into the couch cushions. Much of the earlier tension he was feeling had fled, under the realization of the plan. "But, knowing their end goal isn't enough, we still need to know how to respond."

"There's really only two options – well, maybe three – that I see, neither of which is ideal," Claire didn't look happy either. "One, we just tell the OSI 'no.' I don't think it'll solve anything, and I think they'll just keep coming back. Two, we give a press conference and say that while the DPG has been approached about helping the military with the re-captured dinosaurs, that it is our belief that adding hybrids to the sanctuary is not in the best interest of the dinosaurs already there. It does mean confirming that at least one of these is a hybrid _and_ , remember, the government hasn't even confirmed that they're attempting to recapture yet." The other three all looked as unhappy with the ideas as Claire was.

"You said maybe three, what's the other option?" Owen asked when Claire didn't immediately offer it.

"The other," Claire took a deep breath, "the other, is that we go full-court press on the issue, and we lay out _exactly_ what we think the government is going to do."

Everyone was silent at that. Finally, Franklin spoke up. " _That_ doesn't seem like a safe plan. Do we really want the government angry with us?"

"I _love_ it," Zia disagreed. "It puts them on the defensive. They either have to admit what they're doing and convince everyone it's a good idea _or_ they have to deny it and there will be more eyes than just the DPG watching to make sure they don't." She paused and looked at Claire, before wincing and adding: "But, if we do that, I think you have to be the one to say it. It's got to come from the top. And it's got to come from someone the press, and everyone else, trusts. The DPG is highly tied to you."

Owen sat up, leaning forward, before he said carefully. "I like the idea too. But I don't like the idea of Claire giving a press conference. Don't we have enough targets on us already?" He looked towards the front windows, still carefully covered by curtains. If they were all quiet, they could hear the noise from the reporters outside.

"I agree with Zia. If we do it, it'll _have_ to come from me. It won't come across with the same authority, won't be given the same _weight_ if it's anyone else," Claire stated.

"You'll have to take questions," Zia added. "I think we can have you give a statement, but you'll have to take questions."

"And that's what I _don't_ like," Owen shook his head angrily, getting up and starting to pace around the room. "They aren't going to stay on topic. They're going to ask about Maisie." He paused, pointing a finger at Claire. "You _know_ they'll ask about her."

Claire nodded. "I know. If I thought either of the other options would work…" she trailed off, giving a weak shrug. "I've dealt with the press for years. I can deflect them. Besides, I think they're going to be pretty shocked by what we have to say."

x x x

A scream piercing the air caused Owen to bolt upright in bed. He wasn't sure at first what woke him, but his actions caused Claire to wake beside him with a sleepy "what?" The second scream had both of them tumbling out of the bed. Owen beat Claire to the door, but she was only a half step behind him as they both burst into the hallway.

"Let me go!" Maisie cried out, this time accompanied by a scream of pain, as the two of them barrel down the hallway and into her room.

It was dark, but Owen could just make out Maisie on her bed, two grown adults trying to drag her off of it. He barely managed to get out a yell of "Hey!" before he'd thrown himself into the mix. He was blinded a second later, as Claire flipped on the lights. It didn't matter, his mind was set on one thing, and that was getting between Maisie and these men (or, at least, who he assumed were men).

He could dimly hear Claire yelling, and a part of his mind was sure that all the sound from the room plus the lights turning on _had_ to be getting the attention of the media outside. But, for the first time, he wasn't upset about that. He was pulling no punches, as he fought back against the two guys, who had, thankfully, at least dropped their grip on Maisie.

"Get Maisie," Owen managed to growl, barely dodging the fist aimed at his face, but he ended up moving himself into position for the second assailant to knee him in the groin, and he dropped onto the bed with an "oomph." He tried to ignore the pain, wildly swinging his arms until he connected, grabbing and pulling the one guy closer, trying to get leverage to use his fists.

"C'mon Maisie," he heard Claire shuffling Maisie towards the door, and he was glad there was one less thing to worry about. "I'm calling 911!" Claire shouted at the guys, but at first it appeared that they didn't seem to hear or care.

They continued to fight against him, and it took Owen a moment to notice that what they were doing had changed. They were no longer trying to take him down, exactly, more they were working to free the one guy from his grip. They managed to get a lucky punch and he _knew_ , instantly, that he was going to be sporting a black eye. His hands immediately went to protect his face. A moment later, they had completely let go, and when he moved his hands, he saw them bolting for Maisie's window. In the distance he could hear sirens.

By the time he got to his feet, one was already out the window, but he managed to grab the second in a choke hold, taking him down. As the guy outside reached the ground, there was a sudden commotion. Apparently, the noise had definitely woken the reporters, and they were no longer afraid to venture onto the property. The one who made it out the window had dropped down from the tree to land directly in front of a news camera. At the sound of his surprise, followed almost immediately by his surrender, the one in the bedroom also went limp, knowing it was useless to keep fighting.

Owen continued to sit on the guy's back, pulling his arms behind him, until police entered the room only a few minutes later and took over for him. The moment he was free to move again, he was out the door and down the stairs, calling out. "Claire? Maisie? Kiddo?" Claire's voice beckoned him into the kitchen, and he stumbled through the door frame, skidding to a stop at their side. Claire was sitting at the kitchen table, Maisie on her lap, with a couple of police officers on the other side. At the sight of Owen, both Claire and Maisie leapt up. He grabbed Maisie in a tight hug first, before he managed to loosen one arm and pull Claire into it too. The police calmly waited the three out.

A minute later, Claire pulled back so she could look at him properly. "Are you okay?" He nodded, but she started giving him a critical look up and down, her gaze doubling back to his face. "Your eye!"

He winced, and then winced again from the pain of wincing, before admitting, "yeah, they got in a couple of lucky shots."

"That's definitely going to bruise," Claire said, reaching out and touching the swelling skin around his left eye carefully. Their gazes locked momentarily, her palm cupping his cheek, thumb sweeping the skin just below his eye. She could feel him ever so slightly letting his head rest in her hand. A whimper from Maisie startled them and Owen's head shifted away. A soft sigh escaped Claire, as she pulled her hand away, stepping back. She hadn't expected that moment but it felt over too soon. "Let me grab you some ice."

After she pulled away, Owen wrapped himself more fully around Maisie again, who he can feel shaking in his arms. "Kiddo," he murmured into her hair, "are you okay?" Maisie just tightened her arms around him in response.

"Here," Claire pulled out a chair, and gestured for Owen to sit, which he did, Maisie still attached to him. She pulled another chair over as close as she could, before settling beside them, one hand briefly resting on Maisie's back. Once they were seated, she raised the ice pack, and carefully rested it against his face. Owen let out a soft hiss, the cold both soothing and too cold at the same time. Holding the ice pack in place, Claire turned back to the police, who had been quietly discussing with another officer who had entered the room. "Do you know who they are?"

"They weren't carrying ID, which isn't that unusual," the first officer replied. "However, we did get a hit off their fingerprints. They each have a bit of a record, although nothing like kidnapping before."

"What's more interesting," the second officer added, "is they're both adamantly denying that they were here to kidnap Maisie."

"What were they doing in her room then?" Owen growled. "They definitely weren't _invited_ over."

"We found them with a kit for drawing blood. Do you know why they might have that?" the first officer questioned.

"Drawing blood?" Claire looked confused, but only for a second. "Wu." She stated the name matter-of-factly, and could _feel_ Owen tensing beside her.

"Who?"

"Dr. Henry Wu," Claire clarified.

"He doesn't deserve that title," Owen shook his head. "Not after everything he's done."

"The guy who made the dinosaurs," the second officer made the connection. "He was on tv the other day, wasn't he?"

"Yes," Claire confirmed. "And he stated perfectly clearly that he wanted access to Maisie. I told him no."

"What? You did what? When did that happen?" Owen's head snapped toward her, the movement dislodging the ice pack, which she pulled away and placed on the table. "You never said anything."

"He called yesterday," Claire dismissed. "I told him that no way in _hell_ was he getting access to Maisie."

"Why didn't you–" Owen started, before cutting himself off. "I want to _kill_ that guy."

"Probably not what you want to be saying in front of the police," Claire rolled her eyes at him.

"He doesn't get to threaten _my family_ and get away with it," Owen hissed. He was radiating pent up anger, but he still had Maisie curled on his lap and she was still shaking, so he couldn't get up or take any action to let it out. Instead, he looked down at Maisie and tightened his hold around her. "He's not getting _anywhere_ near you," he promised.

x x x

By the time the police leave, the sun had risen. They were all exhausted, having barely had any sleep before their … nighttime entertainment. On Claire's suggestion that maybe Maisie should consider lying down, as the girl was practically falling asleep on her feet, Maisie had gone pale, shaking her head no frantically, as a series of no's slipped from her lips. Claire had immediately reassured her that she didn't need to and Owen suggested that they go sit in the living room for a bit, maybe read some of her favourite book. At Maisie's nod of acceptance, Owen said he'd grab the book, knowing Maisie didn't want to enter her room yet, and Claire offered to make hot chocolate, as a soothing drink seemed in order, even if it was just after 8 in the morning.

She was pulling out the ingredients when her phone rang, Zia's name popping up the screen. She answered, and listened to Zia freaking out about how she had turned on her tv that morning and it was all about how something went down at their house during the night and _what happened?_ and why hadn't Claire called. It took her ten minutes to calm Zia down and reassure her that they were all fine, but they were going to take it easy that day. And that yes, she would still be able to do the press conference for the DPG, and that Zia should go ahead with getting it set up.

After hanging up, she made up three cups to each person's specifications (loaded with mini marshmallows for Maisie, whipped cream with a sprinkling of cinnamon for Owen and a light sprinkling of marshmallows and a cinnamon stick stirrer for herself). She grabbed the cups for Owen and Maisie and headed into the living room, pausing in the doorway. They were on the couch, Owen leaning against the back with his feet propped up on the coffee table, while Maisie was curled up with her head in his lap, blanket covering her. Owen was holding _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_ with one hand, reading aloud softly, while his other was running through Maisie's hair. She was surprised Maisie was still awake, although using the word awake might be a little generous, Maisie's eyes were glazed over with exhaustion, and kept closing with long blinks. Entering the room, she placed Owen's mug next to him on the side table, and Maisie's on the coffee table, although she would be surprised if Maisie actually drank any. She got a quiet thanks from Owen, before she headed back to the kitchen to grab her own.

Picking up her mug, she took a sip, enjoying the silence and the chance to hear her own thoughts. She was also hesitant to return to the living room, and figured a few more minutes alone wouldn't hurt. There was a pull in her chest to be beside Maisie, to be offering comfort, the way Owen was. But she couldn't shake the image in her head, of the two of them taking up the entire couch, no visible place left for her. She knew she was being melodramatic, that they would adjust and make room for her, but after everything… After everything, she just wanted to be an automatic part of their family, not someone they have to adjust for.

She didn't realize how long she'd been standing there, slowly sipping her own hot chocolate, lost in thought, until Owen interrupted her.

"Hey, you didn't come back," he said, stepping into the kitchen, carrying his empty mug and Maisie's.

Claire gave a half shrug, before asking, "Is she asleep?"

"Yeah, didn't take much," Owen nodded. "Didn't even manage a sip." He raised Maisie's mug, the pile of marshmallows had shrunk, but from melting and nothing else. He placed the two cups on the counter, before leaning against it with his hip, his gaze focusing on her inquisitively. "Everything okay?" He rolled his eyes at himself, before correcting. "I mean, besides the obvious."

Claire found herself nodding out of habit in response and made herself stop. If they were going to be able to fix things, if they were going to move forward, she had to stop lying – to herself and to him. She gave another half shrug before saying, "No, not really."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Owen asked, and although he said that calmly, she could see the anxiety radiating off of him.

She shook her head and took another sip, her hot chocolate now lukewarm. "Not really. I don't really know how to put my thoughts into words." She gave him a critical look, before setting down her cup. "We really should be putting more ice on your eye. It's definitely bruising." She didn't wait for an answer, as she moved to the freezer to get an ice pack. Between Owen and Maisie and their daredevil attitudes, ice packs were always on hand. And while his earlier one hadn't re-froze yet, she pulled another from the stack. "Here." She had planned on just handing it over, but found herself repeating her earlier actions, gently raising the ice pack to his eye, although this time they were both standing.

He was leaning against the counter now, and as she placed the ice pack on his eye, his hands moved to rest on her hips, gently drawing her closer, before they slid around her back into a loose hug, allowing her to keep her hold on the ice pack.

With a soft sigh, her other hand came up, running through his hair, before drifting down to rest briefly on his shoulder, then sliding partway down his arm. She let her head drop forward, forehead coming to rest against his shoulder. It was the gentle hand that started rubbing her back that caused her undoing, and silent tears came pouring out, soaking into his shirt as her hand on his arm fisted his sleeve in a tight grip.

To his credit, he didn't say anything, just kept gently stroking her back, pulling her a little closer, waiting out her tears. A few minutes later they do slow to a stop, but she didn't pull away at first, revelling in the first real intimacy they'd had in what had probably been months now. When she finally pulled back, she only shifted enough so she could see his face, the ice pack no longer cold against her hand. She dropped it onto the counter behind him, bringing her hand back to his face, gently brushing against the angry purple-y black bruise. "Does it hurt?"

"Only when I blink," Owen said, giving her a smile to let her know he was joking. Although Claire knew there had to be some truth to that, given how swollen it looked. "Besides, you should see the other guys."

"I did," Claire reminded him, a slight grin on her face momentarily. "Seriously though, are you okay, besides the eye?"

"Yeah," Owen nodded. "They only managed to land two lucky shots. They were too interested in trying to get out of the room."

"Two?" Claire looked him over. "Where else?"

Owen looked a little embarrassed, his gaze falling downwards. "I didn't manage to avoid his knee." Claire made the connection, but knew that it had been hours now and he hadn't been walking with any noticeable pain, so it was obviously not a hit that did any lasting damage, and she let it go. "You know," Owen added. "We really need to put some bars on her window. If it's not her going _out_ , then apparently it's others coming _in_!"

"Owen," Claire said in a lightly scolding tone. "We're not turning her room into a prison."

"She's almost a teen," Owen reminded her. "I bet in a couple of years you'll be wishing we added those bars."

Claire just rolled her eyes, knowing he was only joking. They'd had too many close calls to ever permanently block an exit out of their house. "I _do_ think we should look at a window that can lock."

"And a security system," Owen nodded in agreement. "I know the media attention will die down. They won't be here forever. But unless we move, and I don't want to, people are going to know how to find us."

"I love our house," Claire stated. "I don't want to move either." She wrapped her arms around him, leaning against his chest. "I usually love our life, too."

"Me too," Owen hummed in agreement, resting his head on top of hers. They stood there content for a few minutes, exhaustion weighing heavily on them both.

"Owen?" Claire asked tentatively, "Why do you always push me away?"

"Push you aw–? What do you mean?" Owen lifted his head, and Claire leaned back so she could see his face again.

"With Maisie," Claire clarified. "Whenever something happens, it feels like you pull Maisie close, but push me away. Like her running away. I _wanted_ to go pick her up. I would've gone with you. But you pushed me to go into the office."

"I don't… I mean, I'm not _trying_ to push you away," Owen disagreed. "I'm trying to support you. I thought you'd _want_ to be in the office."

"And not go see Maisie? See _our daughter_? After she ran _three hours_ away from us? Why would I want to be in the office?"

"But your job," Owen stammered, starting to feel cornered. He straightened a bit against the counter, and in response Claire pulled back more, her arms falling to her sides, while his moved to rest on the counter on either side of him. "You needed to be there."

"And today?" Claire asked. "What's your reasoning for today?"

"Today?" Owen looked confused. "What happened today? When did I push you away today?"

"When I brought the hot chocolate," Claire gestured towards the living room.

"I didn't push you away," Owen disagreed. "You never came back."

"Because there wasn't any space for me," Claire almost yelled, but caught herself, and instead ground it out. "It's always you and Maisie and I'm left feeling like I'm watching from the sidelines. A third wheel in our own family."

"Jesus Claire," Owen raked a hand through his hair in frustration. "What do you want from me? You work, _all the time_. Even when you're here, you're working. On your phone or in your office. When we took Maisie in, when we _agreed_ on that, I knew it was going to involve sacrifices. I knew it meant living in a city, instead of out on an acreage. I knew it meant soccer games and parent-teacher conferences. That it meant family holidays and no last minute let's just get in the van _and drive_ vacations." He paused and took a deep breath. "But I also knew that it meant being with _you_. And I thought that that would more than outweigh the rest. And it does. Or it did. Sort of. But I feel like I've been the only one sacrificing here." He took another deep breath before continuing, "You want to know why I didn't tell you about that job? Because I _didn't know_ if you would be willing to adjust your schedule to be more present. And I didn't know if I could handle all the Maisie responsibilities while working full time." He paused, taking in Claire's shocked expression, the hurt obvious in her eyes. And as much as it felt good to be getting this off his chest, he could also feel his heart break. "Maybe you see it as me pushing you away, but often, it feels like Maisie's all I have. I don't have a fulfilling job, like you do. And some days, it doesn't feel like I have you either. I might have Maisie, but I don't have anything else."

* * *

 _Thank you to everyone who keeps reviewing and those who are new and catching up. I love hearing what parts of the story excite each of you. I wrote an epilogue, so there will be one coming. Yay!_

 _As always, I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter. We're getting close to the end. Only 2 more chapters after this one + the epilogue._

 _I've got an idea for a sort of "replacement" FK fic, that would involve no volcano and no Maisie. Would anyone be interested in that? Still Clawen and no where near as angsty as this one. More Wu. And probably Mills. Let me know._

 _x x x_

 _This weeks author recommendation is going to be_ Some Other Beginning's End _by **fayedartmouth**. The fic is only on AO3. It's a one shot, but beware it's long - over 20k - so set aside some time to read it. It's a post JW fic that is primarily centered around Claire. It's Clawen (of course). I love Claire's character development - it's not her falling apart and Owen being there to save her. It's about her discovering she can save herself: _

_"There was no one left to save her.  
_ _But then she'd remembered.  
_ _She didn't need someone to save her.  
_ _Not when she had the power to save herself."_

 _Also - Owen is HumanOwen, which is a nice change from the PerfectOwen that seems to be everywhere. :) Definitely check it out._


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Early afternoon, they got a call from the police with an update. They were bringing Wu in for questioning and would like Claire and Owen to attend, if possible. They hesitated for a moment, neither wanting the other to go but each wanting to go themselves. They were equally torn at the idea of leaving Maisie, who had been sticking by their sides since she had awakened. In the end, they decided they should both go, and they asked Zia to come hang out with Maisie while they were gone. Even though Maisie begged them to tag along, neither was willing to allow her within 10 feet of Wu.

At the station, they were led into a conference room with a large table. On the far side of the table sat Wu, accompanied by who they assumed was his lawyer, with a few officers and other personnel scattered around the table and room. They took seats directly across from Wu.

Wu gave them both a large smile, as he greeted them. "Dr. Grady."

"Wu," Owen replied curtly.

"That's Dr. Wu," Wu looked offended at the lack of his title.

"Not to me," Owen disagreed.

"Ms. Dearing," Wu turned to her next.

"Dr–" Claire had a quick glance over at Owen who was glaring at Wu, before correcting herself. "Henry." He may have finally called her Ms. Dearing, but she had decided after last night that he didn't deserve any respect from her.

"Taking your orders from him now, are you?" Wu sneered. "So unlike you. Thought you'd want to be the boss, at home and at work. That's what you like, isn't it?"

Claire could feel Owen tensing beside her, ready to strike. Normally, she would have a good comeback herself. She'd dealt with more than her fair share of men who weren't happy to have a woman leading them. But after their conversation that morning, all she could think about was Owen's voice when he told her she worked all the time. That he felt like he was the only one sacrificing for their family. That he had nothing but Maisie. And she no longer felt sure-footed.

She'd always been a leader. And she always viewed herself, and Owen, as leading together; co-leads, if you will. But now, to know that he hadn't seen it that way? That even though he didn't use the words, he was likely feeling emasculated by her? She had never and _would never_ want that for him. Considering all this, she was unsure how to respond. Every answer she came up with, every retort, every line, felt like a minefield. She sat there silently and didn't respond to Wu's taunting. Instead, what she wanted to do, was to reach for Owen, to grab his hand in hers, but would that seem comforting or emasculating? She folded her hands in her lap.

Owen, for his part, wanted to leap across the table. His hands were in fists, aching with the need to give Wu a black eye to match his own. But Claire's lack of response threw him. It wasn't like her to let someone get away with a comment like that.

Just as he was about to give her a questioning look, an officer at the head of the table introduced everyone. The officer stated that the reason for the gathering was to discuss the incident that occurred at the Grady-Dearing residence and to see if they could come to an understanding.

Owen couldn't prevent his scoff, muttering, loud enough for pretty much the entire room to hear, "' _Incident,'_ right."

Before anyone else could say anything, Wu's lawyer spoke up. "I'd like to remind everyone that my client is here voluntarily. He was not present at the house last night and insists that he has no connection to whatever occurred."

Owen couldn't limit himself to a mutter on that. "Oh give me a break," he rolled his eyes. "Wu knows _exactly_ what went down last night. I'm sure he's done an admirable job distancing himself from it, but, please, tell me why you think _anyone_ else in the world would be climbing through _our 12-year-old daughter's_ window to collect a blood sample?"

This time it was Wu's turn to scoff. "' _Your'_ daughter? Please. She's a scientific experiment. Besides, I heard the adop–" He didn't get to finish as Owen was halfway across the top of the table before Claire and a couple of officers grabbed hold of him and worked to pull him back.

"Say it again, Wu," Owen spat. "I dare you to call Maisie that again."

"Whoa," Wu's lawyer spoke up again, voice threatening. "We did not come here to be attacked. If Mr. Grady can't keep ahold of himself, we _will_ leave."

"Then, we'll see you in court," Owen seethed. Claire and the officers now had him standing, his chair tipped over on the ground, knocked aside when he'd launched himself over the table. He was breathing heavily, and no one seemed inclined to let him go yet, the anger radiating off him in almost visible waves.

"Now, now, now, let's not be hasty," Wu raised his hands in a calming gesture. "We came here to talk, so let's talk."

"Why should we talk to you?" Owen demanded. "What do you have to offer? You should've been locked away years ago. Everything, _everything_ , that's gone wrong with the dinosaurs can be traced directly back to you. You're the only one who's been there since the very beginning. All of this," Owen gestured around, although it wasn't clear what he was referring to exactly, "is happening because you're such a goddamn egomaniac. Never satisfied with what you've done. Always needing to reach higher. To break that next barrier. To put your name in the history books. Saying you've gone too far is such a fucking understatement. You went too far with the _Indominus_ , and everything since then?" Owen finally ran out of steam, his anger starting to dissipate and frustration taking over. "And you couldn't even stop with just messing with dinosaurs. Now, you want to mess with our daughter too." He shook off the hands holding him and picked up his chair, before slumping onto it, resting his arms on the table, facing Wu straight on. "You want to talk? Fine. Talk. Convince me that your life is something I should give a fuck about."

Owen was staring so intently at Wu, he barely registered Claire sitting down next to him, or the others returning to their seats and positions around the room. His focus had narrowed on Wu and he was pretty sure a bomb could go off and he wouldn't notice.

"I'm dying," Wu stated.

"So, what?"

"Three years ago, I barely survived the incident at the Lockwood Estate. I spent months in a private burn unit, being carefully pieced back together. And even then, even with all the money I spent, look at me. I'm not whole. Our current medical knowledge doesn't allow for that. Advancements in medicine happen at a glacial rate compared to pretty much every other field out there. We've put in so many restrictions, so many roadblocks, that it takes astronomical funding, luck, and perseverance for any progress," Owen's brow was furrowed in concentration, wondering where Wu was going with this, but he didn't interrupt, letting Wu continue. "The advances I have made in genetics over the course of my career have been unparalleled. But, the very heavy-handed NDAs that were placed on my research have meant that I have always been unable to share those advances, to allow others to benefit and, perhaps, even improve upon them. Now, however, that's all changed. I want to use my knowledge for the greater good. I _want_ to share what I've learned with the wider world, and I want them to take my work and make it even better." Wu looked searchingly at both Claire and Owen, but neither of them said anything. "I no longer have the same … _benefactors_ behind my research anymore. Between that, and having to deal with my own health issues, I can no longer progress at the rate that I've grown used to." Wu clasped his hands and placed them on the table in front of him. This time, he didn't continue, waiting for a response.

"What do you expect us to say to that?" Owen was the first to break the silence. He continued, sarcastically, "We're so sorry that you've lost your billionaire funders? What a hard life you've led. What could we possibly do to make it better?" He sneered for a second, before his voice returned to normal. "Give me a fucking break, Wu. We weren't born yesterday. Something else is going on. You've obviously found a source of funding for the past three years." He held up his hand, when Wu went to respond. "No need to say what it is, I'm sure I already know. I find it hard to believe that after your so-called prolific progress in genetics with bringing an _extinct_ species back to life, created using random broken DNA strings found in mosquitoes trapped in amber, that you're finally being tripped up by a simple human cloning issue. Lost research docs or not. What do you want with Maisie?"

"I have no interest in Maisie," Wu looked put upon.

"Bullshit," Owen shook his head. He pointed his finger at Wu. "Either you tell us, or we walk. We don't have to put up with this either."

"I wish I could say that I was deserving of all that praise," Wu stated, to which both Claire and Owen rolled their eyes. "But I'm not, what did you call me, _Claire_? Oh yes, 'playing God.' I'm not doing that. I had nothing to do with the incident at your place." It was Wu's turn to raise a hand to prevent another outburst from Owen. "Oh, give it up _Mr._ Grady, you know you'll never connect me to that. I will admit that I would like to have access to Maisie. And I do believe her to be the key to solving the problems we are currently encountering in our own research. I find it very hard to believe that the two of you, the… How did Mills like to refer to you? Oh yes, 'parents of the new world' would be so against saving lives. Haven't you destroyed enough?"

Claire and the officers were faster that time, and Owen didn't even manage to get out of his chair.

"Fuck you, Wu," Owen hissed. "Fuck you."

"Let's go," Claire tugged on his arm. "We're not going to get anything out of this."

"Agreed," Owen immediately stood up and headed for the door.

"You know, you may not want to work with me. You may disagree with everything I've done. But you can't run away from it," Wu said, as Claire and Owen were leaving. They both paused in the doorway, but neither turned back to face him. "You can't run from knowledge. And you can't destroy it. Once gained, knowledge persists. Ignoring it? Burying your head in the sand? It doesn't make it any less true. Or any less known. Remember that."

x x x

Barely 24 hours later there was another breaking news bulletin flashing across the screen, interrupting the current news program. Before Maisie or Owen could even think of calling for Claire, they could hear her hurrying towards them through the house.

"Zia just texted me about–" Claire said, bursting into the room. She stopped when she realized they were already on the news channel, and instead just moved over to join them. Owen was sitting at one end of the couch, with Maisie cuddled up right beside him, her legs stretched along the couch. Maisie shifted slightly, freeing up some space for Claire, who sat down, hands tapping nervously on her legs.

Since they had returned from their interview, Maisie had continued to stick by their sides, refusing to let them both out of her sight at the same time. The previous evening, the idea of even going near her room to get ready for bed had caused Maisie to shake with fear. The event still too raw, Claire and Owen hadn't wanted to push the issue that evening. Instead, it had been a long evening / night camped out in the living room, movie after movie playing on the TV. No one had slept well, and all were feeling lethargic as a result. Tonight, Claire knew, would be another battle, but _not_ sleeping was not the answer.

"What do you think happened?" Maisie asked, but before she even finished, the news segment started, with the anchor looking solemnly at the camera.

" _We just received breaking news of a dinosaur recapture attempt by the government. The details are still trickling in, but here's what we know so far. The government had located a dinosaur, we are not sure what species yet, in New Mexico. They attempted a rescue operation, starting early this morning just before day break._ "

"Attempted – that doesn't sound good," Owen commented.

" _The security system around the dinosaur, including at least 5 mercenaries we are told, ended up being different from their intel, and the resulting rescue did not proceed as expected._ "

"Well, that's… diplomatic," Claire rolled her eyes.

" _While we don't have final numbers yet, preliminary reports suggest that at least two mercenaries died, and multiple government and military workers were injured, at least one critically so. It is unclear as to the condition of the dinosaur. As this story develops, we will continue to update you_ –"

Owen hit the mute button, as the segment ended and the three sat quietly on the couch for a minute, processing the news.

"I could've prevented this," Owen finally said.

"How?" Maisie questioned.

"If I had gone–"

"No," Claire disagreed strongly. "Your being there doesn't fix their intel problems. If you were there, we," she gestured to herself and Maisie, "might be answering the phone right now only to find out you're in the hospital, or something worse. You can't put this on you."

"I don't understand," Maisie looked at the tv for a second, before her gaze went between Claire and Owen. "I mean, I know the dinosaurs aren't cuddly little puppy dogs or something, but at Jurassic World, and now on the sanctuary, people were…are able to interact with them without getting hurt. I don't understand why people keep getting hurt _now_."

"Mutual respect," Owen replied bitterly. He continued when Maisie just looked more confused. "Animals react according to their base instincts. We do, too – the flight or fight response you've talked about in science class. And, like humans, animals range in aggression. We _know_ how important bonding and relationships, especially family, are on reducing aggression in humans. The same goes for animals. Most of these dinosaurs are being raised in isolation. They don't have a family. They aren't being raised around peers or siblings. They have no socialization. Their only reactions are run or attack. And if they're trapped, then really, they only have one option."

"And the mutual respect?" Maisie asked.

"That's Owen's favourite phrase," Claire stated with a fond smile. "Relationships are two-way streets. Each side needs to respect the other. Think of your science teacher, Mr. Reynolds. You respect him, because he treats you and your classmates as equals. And he respects you guys by doing that."

"Right," Owen nodded. "These dinosaurs have never had anyone respect them, and in return, they feel no need to show any respect back."

Claire moved to get up off the couch.

"Where are you going?" Maisie asked, panicked.

"The press conference is still happening tomorrow morning. I need to make a few edits to take into account todays events. I'll just be in my office," Claire reassured her. Her eyes briefly met Owen's as she left the room, both equally concerned with how to deal with Maisie's new clinginess.

x x x

A little while later, Claire heard a soft knock on her door. Normally, when either Maisie or Owen knocked, they would follow it immediately by opening her door and sticking their heads in. This time, though, there was no movement, just a short pause and then a second knock.

"You can come in," Claire called out.

The door opened and Owen stuck his head around. "I wasn't sure if you were too busy. I just … do you have a couple of minutes?"

"Sure, what's up? Where's Maisie?" Claire waved him in, closing her laptop. Even after his comments about her always working, she was finding it hard to drag herself away. There was so much going on, with new information feeling like it was appearing every couple of minutes. But, if Owen was seeking her out, if he actually wanted to _talk_ , she would make the effort to be present for the conversation, to not let her work distract her.

"Maisie fell asleep on the couch," Owen said as he entered her office, moving to stand across from her. He picked up Fred, who seemed to have lasted no long term harm from his impromptu flight across the office and was enjoying life in a new pot.

"Are you here for Fred?" Claire asked a minute later, when Owen still hadn't said anything, his gaze stuck on Fred, as he slowly rotated the pot in his hands.

"See? He's not just a plant," Owen finally looked up at Claire and gave her a small grin. To his relief, Claire just grinned back.

"He's a pretty hardy cactus," she admitted.

"Probably one of a very select few who has experienced flight," Owen joked. He managed to elicit a small chuckle from Claire at that.

"Complete with a crash landing."

He gave a chuckle too, fiddling with Fred for another moment, before placing him back on her desk. "I just wanted…" he swallowed nervously. "After … the mutual respect thing." Another pause, this time accompanied by a deep sigh. "I owe you an apology."

At that, Claire looked at him in surprise. That definitely wasn't what she was expecting to hear.

"I should've told you about the job offer when I first got it. I think, no, I _know_ , that my own issues got in the way. But you're right. What you said the other night. We're supposed to be a team. And–"

"Owen," Claire interrupted him, stopping his rambling. "I'm not mad at you."

"You're not?" Owen stared at her intently for a moment. "Are you sure?"

"What do you mean, am I sure? Of course I'm sure," Claire rolled her eyes. "Owen, these past few weeks, if they've shown us anything, it's that we're _both_ not great at communicating. I should've told you when Wu called. I knew it would make you angry and so I just told him no and hoped that would be enough. I really do wish you felt like you could've told me about the job. Actually," Claire corrected herself. "It's not even about the job. I wish you told me you were unhappy. That you wanted things to change. I don't want you to be unhappy. I know I get caught up in my own work. I always have. I don't know how to change that. It's been the one constant in my life since I was 19 and first interned at Jurassic World. It's my safe place."

"I don't want _you_ to be unhappy, either," Owen replied. "I just wish your safe place was here, with me. With Maisie. I want _us_ to be your safe place."

"I don't know how to change," Claire repeated.

"You don't _need_ to change," Owen reassured. "I'm not asking you to. And, even if our communication skills may need some work, there are things that I do know. I _know_ you love me Claire. I don't doubt that. And I know that I love you. I really hope _you_ don't doubt that. Things may feel a little rocky right now, but I don't want things to change. Not the really big things, anyway. I do _need_ to take this job. But taking it is not about changing you or changing our family. It's just time for me to really rejoin the world."

Claire got up and moved around the desk until she was standing in front of him. "I'm not worried about the job. I _know_ we can make things work with it. And I'm really happy for you – for getting the proposal accepted and for taking it. You'll be great at it. It is time you get back out there." She quirked an eyebrow and added, "I do think you should be prepared for nonstop requests for a dog though. Maisie is not going to let that go."

Owen laughed at that, and it was almost like a dam burst, some of the tension finally draining away. He pulled her towards him, arms wrapping around her. "I really do love you."

"I know," Claire smiled at him. She stretched up, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other on his shoulder, pulling him down towards her. "I love you, too," she said softly, just before her lips met his.

x x x

Maisie was quiet over dinner that evening. She silently helped Claire clean the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher. She listened as Owen talked about doing some work on his motorcycle and Claire mentioned wanting to run through her statement a few more times in preparation for tomorrow. As the final dish was put away, she trailed out of the kitchen after them both. She froze, however, when Claire headed into her office and Owen turned towards the garage.

Except for the couple of hours when Claire and Owen had gone to the police station to see Wu, she had been able to stick by them both since the men had broke into her room. If one of them was busy, the other had always been there.

What was she supposed to do now? She could go to the garage with Owen but watching him work was so boring. Even when he let her help, it was never fun. On the other hand, sitting in Claire's office listening to her repeat the same speech over and over again didn't sound any more exciting. She thought about taking her iPad out to the garage, but it was still up in her room, and she wasn't about to venture there on her own. Not yet.

Over dinner Claire and Owen had both talked about getting a security system installed. They had (only briefly) also debated cutting down the tree (or at least a limb on it) outside her window. She hadn't said much of anything, just nodding along. She knew they were trying to put her at ease. They kept talking about how they weren't going to be "scared out of their house." She wished she had the same strength and courage they did.

"Everything ok, Mais?"

She looked up and saw that Claire was standing in the doorway to her office, hand on the door like she'd been in the middle of closing it when she noticed Maisie still standing there.

She wanted to say yes but couldn't get the words out. Instead, she just shrugged, looking down the hall where Owen had gone. He was already out of sight. A hand on her shoulder startled her, and she almost let out a scream, as she flinched backwards.

"It's just me," Claire's voice was soothing. "Just me. Come here." Claire pulled Maisie into a hug, which she sunk into gratefully, wrapping her arms tightly around Claire.

"I'm sorry," Maisie mumbled.

"Sorry?" Claire just held her tighter. "There's nothing to be sorry about. It's been a really tough few days, hasn't it?"

Maisie nodded against her, choosing not to say anything and just accept the comfort.

"It's okay to be scared," Claire whispered a few minutes later. "I'm scared too, you know."

" _You're_ scared?" Maisie looked up at her in disbelief. Claire and Owen were _never_ scared. "Nothing scares you."

"That's not true!" Claire disagreed. "Spiders are terrifying – all those legs." She shuddered dramatically and got a hint of a smile from Maisie. She turned serious. "But what scares me the most, is something happening to you. Or to Owen. Those guys? They won't be back. And Owen and I, we will do anything and _every_ thing we can to keep you safe."

"Do I have to sleep in my room?" Maisie asked tentatively. "I don't want to."

"No, you don't need to," Claire reassured her. "Not tonight for sure. Let's take it one day at a time. It's still your room, and we want you to feel safe there. We _are_ going to install a security system. If that's not enough, we'll figure out something else, okay?"

Maisie nodded slowly. "Okay."

"Now, I do need to practice a couple more times. But after, how about we watch a movie. Something girly?" Claire questioned, a smile on her face. While Owen and Maisie had watched a lot of movies over the past couple of weeks, she knew that Owen was really good at subtly steering Maisie towards choosing movies he was willing to watch.

Maisie debated for a couple of seconds. Listening to Claire practice would still be boring, but, a musical would be a nice change. And Claire wasn't as enthusiastic about watching movies as Owen was, so she wasn't going to pass up the opportunity. She nodded in agreement. "Can we watch Descendants 2?"

"Sure," Claire laughed, knowing it was one of Owen's most dreaded movies. She steered Maisie into her office.

x x x

Claire, Owen, and Maisie arrived at the DPG headquarters an hour before the press conference was scheduled. Maisie had been informed that she was not allowed to attend the actual event, but they also were not about to leave her at home alone. Franklin and Zia would be participating in the press conference, and with everything going on they didn't want to have Maisie go over to a friends house. Instead, they had decided that she would hang out at the DPG headquarters with some of the other employees. They knew it meant she would see the press conference, but they weren't naive enough to think that if she didn't watch it live, she wouldn't watch it later on Youtube or somewhere else.

The actual press conference was going to take place a couple of blocks away at a park. Originally, they had hoped to do so out of the DPG offices, enjoying the idea of the camera showing all the employees diligently working away. The lively and excited atmosphere of the office was also engaging and positive. However, the RSVPs started arriving in a hurry. And then, it was picked up across social media, and interest grew outside of the normal reporters and news networks. It became clear the office was going to be much too small for the gathering, and so they had relocated it.

"Are you nervous?" Maisie asked Claire, who was sitting in her office, flipping through a stack of cue-cards. "I'd be nervous."

"A little," Claire admitted. "But I've also done a lot of these, so it's not as bad as it was when I had my first one. Mainly, I'm just looking to get it over with. I know it won't fix everything, but it's definitely a step forward."

"Is Owen going to have to talk too?" Maisie looked worried at that thought. "I don't know if you should let him."

Claire laughed at that. It was well known that Owen and reporters did not mix. "No, he won't have to talk. He's going to be there for mostly moral support and to make it clear that he is in agreement with our statement."

It wasn't long after, that Claire, Zia, Franklin, and Owen headed out with a few more staffers tagging along. They timed it so they would only arrive at the park a few minutes before the scheduled press conference. They didn't want to give reporters much chance to start throwing questions before they were ready.

They spent those few minutes checking that everything was properly set up (several staffers had gone down earlier to set up a podium and microphone so reporters would know where to gather). Claire placed her cue-cards on the podium, before turning to face the other three. The plan was that they would stand with her, but that she'd be the one talking.

She wasn't sure why this was making her nervous. She'd done hundreds of press conferences over the years. And she survived the messy fallout of Jurassic World. There was no way this could be nearly as bad as that. But, she was, and she found herself constantly shifting, nervous energy radiating out.

"You'll be fine," Zia reassured her. "Walk in the park." Zia looked around, before adding with a laugh. "Literally."

Franklin just gave her a nervous smile. In order to even show up with them today, they had had to promise multiple times he would _not_ have to speak.

"Hey," Owen took a step closer to her side, reaching down and threading his fingers through hers. He looked over his shoulder at the reporters gathering. "We're with you."

"Promise me you won't punch anyone," Claire begged, her eyes taking in his still healing black eye. They (she and Zia) had tried to convince him to let them cover it up with makeup, but he'd refused. Said people should see the physical toll this was taking on their family. They'd let their arguments drop.

A minute later, someone came over to nudge them that it was time to get started. Claire nodded, taking a deep breath. She gave the other three a smile, and then led the way to the podium, hand still clasped with Owen's.

They stood, with Owen on her right, Zia to her left, and Franklin next to Zia. Claire looked out over the crowd. Taking a moment to take it all in, she noticed there was a group of people at the back with protest signs that proclaimed "save the dinosaurs" and "animals aren't weapons." There were a couple of counter-protestors with "kill all the dinosaurs" signs, that she immediately ignored. There also appeared to be people gathering who were more just curious about what was going on. As she stood there, the crowd slowly grew quiet.

"Hi, thank you for coming out today. My name is Claire Dearing and I am the founder of the Dinosaur Protection Group, also known as the DPG." She paused, making sure that she had everyone's attention. "I am here today with many DPG staffers, including two longtime employees Zia Rodriguez and Franklin Webb." She pointed to each as she introduced them. "I am also here with Dr. Owen Grady," she gestured at Owen as well. They had decided that they weren't going to introduce him as her husband, since he was there specifically because he'd also been sought out by the government, not because of his relationship to her. However, should anyone _not_ know that fact (and considering that every time Maisie was talked about on the news they also mentioned that her guardians were the two of them, it would be surprising if there was anyone left), the fact that the two were holding hands was probably a big give away. She chose to just ignore that, not wanting to give up the comfort of his hand.

"We are here today because we have been approached by the government with separate two proposals. One proposal was brought directly to the DPG, while the second was presented to Dr. Grady. However, our response to these proposals is a joint one. And so we all stand here, united, and speaking with a single voice.

"As you are likely aware, there have been multiple reports of militarized dinosaur field tests, along with the more recent attempted dinosaur rescue. The government approached us wanting the DPG's help in relocating any captured dinosaurs to the sanctuary, along with Dr. Grady's assistance in the planning and execution of the rescues. However, the government has not been upfront with either us or with the public. And so, we felt the best way to respond to these requests was through the press.

"The DPG is committed to the protection of the remaining dinosaurs that were saved from Isla Nublar and then recaptured in California. We believe that the dinosaurs are magnificent animals that deserve our support and respect. However, we do have a line. The DPG believes that _dinosaurs_ are worth protecting, but we will _not_ protect any hybrids. The Jurassic World and the Lockwood Estates incidents can both be directly traced back to the creation of the hybrid dinosaurs the _Indominus Rex_ and the _Indoraptor_. These creatures are _not_ dinosaurs, but a twisted manifestation of some of humanity's worst desires, as carried out by Henry Wu. These creatures do _not_ deserve protection.

"The government has failed to properly inform the public that at least one of the recent dinosaurs involved in a field test is actually a hybrid. And they have also failed to inform you that they have located at least two, that we know of, dinosaurs right here on US soil. Their inability to be transparent, both with us, and with the public at large, is why we have come forward. It is not fair to be putting any members of the military or otherwise into compromised positions without the full facts. We don't know yet what exactly went wrong with the rescue operation yesterday. But underestimating the intelligence of these dinosaurs has been our downfall before. It is high time that the government learns that lesson too.

"We also believe there is another area the government is not being truthful about. We do not believe that they are merely interested in the safe rescue and relocation of these dinosaurs. And the fact that they approached Dr. Grady, in our opinion, confirms this. Dr. Grady was the first to work directly on dinosaur intelligence, when he worked for InGen on Isla Nublar. And prior to that, he worked on marine mammal intelligence as a member of the Navy. He has a PhD in animal behaviour and will be soon joining a research team at UCSF working on a project with service dogs in conjunction with the VA and the DoD. Because of the government's interest in Dr. Grady, we believe that the government is motivated by military goals, not the dinosaurs welfare.

"The DPG will always be willing to rescue and protect dinosaurs. Should the government find and rescue any, we are willing to work with them on relocating the dinosaurs to the sanctuary, assuming it will be in the best interest of the dinosaurs already living there.

"While the DPG currently has the contract to run the sanctuary, it will be coming up for renewal in the next year. We hope we will still be able to continue the important work we do in protecting these wonderful animals. We believe that the dinosaurs should belong to no one person or corporation. That they should not and _do not_ belong to any one country. On that note, we will also be applying to the UN to make the sanctuary a United Nations Protected Area.

"Thank you."

Claire finally was able to take a deep breath, her fingers still lightly trembling. She squeezed Owen's hand, and he squeezed back, leaning in every so slightly to tell her, "Great job."

The crowd looking back at her was stunned. The reporters frantically jotting down notes and sending texts and tweets.

She squared her shoulders and then spoke again. "Any questions?"

x x x

The response to the DPG press conference was swift and furious. Clips of Claire speaking were flying around social media paired with clips of government officials being cornered, all uttering the same two words: "No comment."

The DPG had become masters of using social media to their advantage. It had been a matter of necessity to learn how after the Lockwood incident and they exploited that knowledge now. There were rally's being arranged in major cities across the country and around the world. People were updating their avatar images on social media to include slogans like "no to hybrid dinos," "save the _real_ dinos" and "dinosaurs aren't weapons."

Pundits on radio shows and tv were picking apart the statement and debating where and how the government should be stepping in. What should be the bounds for their involvement? What should the American people be willing to accept?

Ian Malcolm, no surprise, was once again a sought after guest on these shows, where he continued to push his view that it was people or the dinosaurs. With the hybrid dinosaurs, he felt even more strongly. He repeated his favourite line, that the unleashing of genetic power was inevitably going to be catastrophic.

When asked if he thought the government should destroy the sanctuary, he fell back on an old standard of his. That everything that had happened, that everything that _would_ happen, well, "it ain't going to stop with the de-extinction of the dinosaurs."

* * *

 _Whew. Things are starting to wrap up. And hey! Claire and Owen finally kissed. :P_

 _I'd love to hear what you thought about the Wu conversation. I had a lot of fun writing that. The more time I ponder Wu, the more I like the character. Even after 5 movies he's still a conundrum and we don't know what's quite motivating him. Hubris?_

 _Reader comments and reviews really help me write a better story. The Maisie/Claire scene in this chapter came out specifically because of **Shian1998** 's review._

 _x x x_

 _This weeks author rec goes to **Ragingbulldurham** who posts over on AO3. She has some great angst-y post JW fics. I particularly like _In the During of a Moment _and_ Something We Just Know _._

 _Anyone have any author recs to send back to me?_


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"I've been thinking about what you said today," Maisie announced as they were eating dinner that evening.

"What _who_ said?" Owen replied.

"Claire's statement to the press. And the questions afterwards," Maisie clarified. She slowly twirled some spaghetti onto her fork, before watching it slide back off onto her plate. "I've been thinking about Dr. Wu, too."

"Why would you be thinking about him?" Claire inquired with a concerned look. "You don't need to worry about him, you know. He, or any of his men, won't try anything again."

"I'm not worried, not really," Maisie shook her head in disagreement. "I'm… People have been saying how selfish it is that I'm not willing to help. That I'm a… a rich snob. And others have been saying that since I'm a clone I shouldn't have any rights. That people should be able to just take what they need from me."

"Where are you getting these ideas?" Claire's brow furrowed. She couldn't remember hearing or reading any similar comments in any of the news articles that had come her way. And she felt like she'd been drowning in the reporting.

"Twitter," Maisie replied without thinking, still staring at her plate.

"I'm sorry, did you just say 'Twitter'?" Owen asked calmly, although the look on his face showed he was anything but calm. "How are you reading Twitter?"

"Um…" Maisie had the grace to look sheepish when she finally met their gazes, both staring intently at her. "On my iPad?"

"We had an entire conversation about Twitter, Mais," Claire sighed, placing her fork down. "You're not even old enough for the terms of service."

"Yeah, but–" Maisie started.

"No but's," Owen shook his head. "I don't want to hear an excuse. You _know_ why we didn't want you on there."

"I just wanted to see what people were saying," Maisie said quietly. "Not just reporters, but _real_ people."

"Twitter is _not_ where you go to get an accurate representation of that," Claire asserted strongly. "We've talked before about how anonymity works and how it brings out the worst in people. We didn't want you exposed to that – not yet. Not when you don't need to be. I wish you had come to us if you had questions."

"You wouldn't have shown me," Maisie grumbled. "And they were talking about _me_!"

"All the more reason to not search it out on your own," Claire shook her head slowly. She reached across the table and grasped one of Maisie's hands. "Mais, I've been there. The stuff that was written about me after Jurassic World? And, again, after the Lockwood incident?" She paused, biting her lip at the memories, trying not to be overwhelmed by it all. "I was like you, I searched out everything. I was Googling my name. I thought I _needed_ to know what they were saying. And I thought that they were _right_. But they're not right. And it really doesn't make anything better to read any of it."

"Claire's right, kiddo," Owen spoke up. "I have, thankfully, never been as visible in all of this as Claire. But reading about myself, hell, reading about _Claire_ or _you_ , just makes my blood boil. And as much as I want to, I can't go punching every single person who makes me angry. They're not worth it."

"Fine," Maisie looked back down at her food, no longer feeling all that hungry.

She missed the exchange of looks between Claire and Owen and the silent conversation they had, before Owen spoke up again. "Kiddo, can you go get your iPad?" The words were said in such a normal tone, that Maisie almost missed the implication. But when her eyes met Owen's it was clear what the request was really about.

"No, not fair," Maisie shook her head.

"Mais," Claire's voice held a note of warning.

"Ugh," Maisie pushed away from the table, stomping up the stairs. Owen and Claire barely managed to wait before she was out of sight before they gave heavy sighs.

"She's definitely becoming a teenager," Owen moaned. "I'm not ready for this."

"I don't even know why we're surprised. We should've expected this," Claire met his gaze. "It's something both of us would've done ourselves."

"Cheers to being the best parents ever," Owen said sarcastically, tipping his glass towards Claire. She gave him a slight chuckle at that but raised hers in a toast.

"Well, no one would mistake us for helicopter parents," Claire laughed.

"No, definitely not," Owen agreed.

It wasn't long before they heard Maisie on her way back down the stairs. She entered the kitchen with a huff, placing her iPad on the table as she sat back in her chair. "What are you going to do with it?" Maisie asked.

Owen pulled the iPad towards himself but didn't open it. "You've lost it for… what do you think Claire, one week or two?"

"Two weeks?!" Maisie's eyes were wide and horrified.

"Two weeks it is," Claire grinned at her look of utter dismay. "You'll be fine without it. Besides, I was thinking we could maybe all head up to the cabin for a long weekend. You won't even miss it."

The kitchen table was silent for a couple of minutes, Owen and Claire resuming eating while Maisie just poked at her food, scowl on her face. Once her initial dismay passed though, she realized they had let her keep her phone, so she wouldn't be out of touch completely, and the thought cheered her up. It was almost as if they read her mind.

"Wait," Claire paused with her fork in midair. "Did you install Twitter on your phone too?"

"No," Maisie replied immediately, and it was the truth. She _had_ only put it on her iPad. She barely remembered she owned a phone, forgetting it at home all the time, but her iPad was her lifeline.

"Okay." Even after everything, Claire still trusted her. She knew that Maisie wouldn't lie, it wasn't Maisie's natural inclination.

"I _do_ want to help," Maisie spoke up a minute later.

"What do you mean?" Owen asked.

"You're both helping," Maisie reminded them. "With the DPG and protecting the dinosaurs. And with your new job too," she pointed at Owen. "You'll be helping vets and the dogs." Her eyes narrowed briefly, "I hope this means we're actually going to _talk_ about getting a dog now."

Claire hid a grin at that while Owen just sighed. "We'll talk," he agreed.

"I want to help too," Maisie repeated. "If I'm the key, whatever that means, I want to help."

"You are not going anywhere near Wu," Owen's response was immediate. "No way. And we don't even know _if_ you're the key. I still don't believe he's telling us the truth."

"Does it have to be through Wu?" Maisie asked.

"No," Claire said her gaze turned thoughtful. "That's a good question. I wonder who else may benefit from the research. Who else even has _access_ to the research."

"If the research is out there now, I hope it's getting into the hands of _real_ researchers, not just more people like Wu," Owen agreed.

"You know," Claire turned to Owen. "I bet some of your new colleagues might know people who may work in similar areas. Maybe there's some avenues there we can explore."

"If we focus on looking at places like hospitals, especially teaching hospitals affiliated with universities like Stanford or Berkeley…" Owen trailed off, before nodding decisively. "We could make sure that any research being done would be going through an ethics review. That it all happens above board."

"So, I can help?" Maisie had been trying to follow the conversation.

"We'll ask around, sure," Claire smiled at her. "Let's see what we find out."

"But, if we do this, if we explore this option, you _must_ promise us, that you won't be going behind our backs. That you'll stick to agreements like no Twitter accounts," Owen raised her iPad and waved it at her. "That you won't run away again. This will only happen if we are _all_ in agreement. You are still a minor and we _will_ be part of anything that happens," Owen stated firmly, leaving no wiggle room.

"Okay," Maisie nodded in acceptance.

x x x

A text from Zia had Claire commandeering the tv away from Owen and Maisie later that week. The two looked slightly guilty at being found in front of it, again. At the rate they were going, they were going to be addicted to soap operas by the time the reporters left, and their somewhat self-imposed house arrest ended. Ignoring their weak protests, Claire immediately flipped the channel over to CNN, just in time, as the channel was showing a government worker standing at a podium outside some federal building. It wasn't Mr. Wood or Ms. Spencer, but she hadn't expected them to be the ones who would give a press conference. The speaker had already started and the bar at the bottom of the screen simply read, "Mr. Jabari."

"Did something hap–" Owen started to ask, but she shushed him, moving to join the two on the couch, gaze single-mindedly focused on the tv.

"– _address the concerns that were raised a couple of days ago by the Dinosaur Protection Group. Their press conference caught us off guard and we really wish that they had chosen to speak directly to us, instead of talking to and misleading the press._ "

"Misleading?" Maisie asked, but she also got shushed.

" _The government has worked closely with the DPG for the past three years to both capture and save the escaped dinosaurs. As well, we have jointly worked to run the dinosaur sanctuary._ "

"I thought _you_ ran it," Maisie commented quietly, and for that she actually got a smile from Claire.

"They do," Owen nodded. "This is just government talk – they take all the credit and none of the blame."

" _I know people have been concerned with a number of issues raised by the DPG at their press conference, so I am here to put those concerns to rest,_ " Claire had to give the guy credit, he didn't look nervous or even like he was lying, which she knew he at least partly was. " _When we realized that there were dinosaurs being created_ back here _in the US, we immediately worked to identify the locations and sources behind this. While I can't disclose all the information we have found, I can say that it has led to the successful rescue of three dinosaurs so far. And yes,_ " he did have the decency to look a little chagrined at having to admit this part, " _it also led to the unfortunate incident that occurred where one dinosaur needed to be put down._ "

"'Put down'," Owen scoffed. "Like they were a vet and doing so in the dinosaur's favour."

" _However, we flatly deny the accusations that we are working hard to rescue these dinosaurs in order to create a so-called 'militarized dinosaur army',_ " Claire couldn't help the chuckle that escaped at those words, Owen laughing along with her, as the man actually performed air quotes during the press conference. Claire couldn't believe someone in the government thought it would be a good idea to coin the phrase 'militarized dinosaur army.' That's what everyone was going to be talking about now.

" _It is our belief that_ no dinosaur _should live anywhere on US soil. We approached the DPG and Mr. Grady, separately, to ask for their assistance in this matter. We wanted assistance from the DPG in relocating these rescued dinosaurs to the sanctuary. We had hoped that Mr. Grady would be willing to work with us on plans for our rescues. As you know, from their press conference, they both turned us down._ " At this, the man paused, obviously hoping that people would latch on to that line and use it to turn on the DPG. " _I'd also like to say that we_ never _threatened the DPG with revoking their contract to run the sanctuary. The sanctuary is, and will continue to be, a joint-venture between the government and the DPG, as long as there exist dinosaurs within our protection._ "

"That's going to be hard for them to back away from," Owen stated. "I'm surprised he said it on tv."

"They know they're in a tough spot," Claire disagreed. "They didn't have much choice but to deny that threat. Although, I will concede on him agreeing that it will continue. The contract _is_ up for renewal and they could've left it open-ended."

"Probably worried you'd call him out on it if they did," Owen gave her a proud smile as he draped an arm over the back of the couch, letting his hand fall to the back of her neck, and lightly massaging in support.

" _We would still like to work with the DPG on relocating the dinosaurs we have captured to the sanctuary. They will not be allowed to live on US soil, so if they are not relocated, they will, unfortunately, also be put down._ "

"Well, _that_ sounded like a threat to me," Maisie stated, sitting up straighter, arms crossed over her chest, frown on her face.

Owen barely managed to suppress his chuckle, the look on her face the spitting image of one he'd seen countless times on Claire's. "Yeah, sort of a stupid line after saying they weren't threatening you guys," he said in agreement.

" _The government would like to remind everyone that we work for_ you," the man was obviously wrapping up, no longer looking down at his notes. " _It is our belief that dinosaurs on US soil is in no one's best interest. We will continue to do our very best to make sure the US remains dinosaur-free._ "

At that line, all three sitting on the couch rolled their eyes.

After a brief pause, where the man looked out at the sea of reporters in front of him, he added, " _And now, I have time for a few questions._ "

" _Can you tell us where you located the three dinosaurs?_ " The first question was thrown, and before the man could even start to answer, a volley of questions followed.

Claire hit mute on the remote, as she had no actual interest in listening to that portion of the segment. Zia, or someone else, would let her know if anything interesting happened.

"Well, not as _bad_ as I was expecting," Claire finally said. "Definitely could've been _so_ much worse."

"Agreed," Owen nodded. "I think that's probably the most we could've hoped for as a response. Besides, people aren't going to forget what you said. The government knows they have a lot of eyes watching their moves now. And that those people will continue to look to the DPG for information and accuracy."

"Yeah," Claire nodded, leaning back against the couch. Owen shifted his arm, letting it encircle her shoulders, pulling her against his side, where she relaxed into him. It felt like all the stress of the past few weeks may finally be starting to melt away.

There were a few brief moments of silence, before Claire could feel a tugging at her hand. She looked down, and Owen was trying to slip the remote from her grasp. At her look, he just shrugged sheepishly and said, "Things were just getting good. I think Alison is finally going to reveal that her husband is actually _not_ dead and that they were faking his death to catch her best friend–"

Claire just clapped a hand across his mouth, shutting him up. "Whatever," she shrugged, and he took that as permission to change the channel and unmute the tv. Claire really did plan on getting up. There was work to do. She should really talk to Zia and see what kind of media requests were coming in at the DPG. But, sitting there, surrounded by her family, and feeling comfortable and relaxed for what felt like the first time in weeks, she decided work could wait a little longer. Instead, she curled further into Owen's side, and felt his arm tighten around her a little more.

x x x

The sound of the reporters gathered outside their house had become a constant hum that had since faded into the background, the way a ticking clock could be ignored. But now, as Claire and Owen stood just inside their front door, preparing to go out and finally _face them_ , the hum sounded more like a rock concert.

It had been two days since the government's response to the DPG's press conference. They had hoped that might be enough to get the reporters to back off, but they hadn't. And so, they had concluded that the reporters were not going to leave until they were addressed directly. Standing up against the government, and putting the whole livelihood of the DPG on the line, had been an easier choice. What they were about to do now, was terrifying on a whole different level. They had never wanted to put their family, to put _Maisie_ , in the spotlight. And now they were about to do so willingly.

Claire took a deep breath, before looking at Owen and asking. "This is the right thing to do, right?" She paused and sighed. "I mean, I know it is. But…"

"It is," Owen nodded. "I don't want to do it anymore than you do, but I don't think we have a choice. They're never going to leave if we don't say something. We need our lives back. Besides," he grabbed her hand in his and tugged her towards him until he could wrap both arms around her in a hug, "we're doing this together. It's not you or me versus them. It's us."

Claire nodded, settling her head against his shoulder, arms looping around his back in a hug as well. From her position, she could see Maisie and Zia sitting on the staircase watching them. Zia, as always, looked calm and confident while Maisie was fidgeting. She knew Maisie desperately wanted to go out there with them. After a few more moments in the hug, she stepped back, and turned to Maisie, reminding her, "I know you want to be out there. But please, trust us that it'll be much better if you don't. You can listen from inside, but you are _not_ , under any circumstances to come outside." She turned a glare on Zia, "And Zia? I'll be holding you responsible if she does." Turning back to Owen, she held out her hand, which he willingly grasped, and then pulled the door open.

The volume from the crowd of reporters immediately increased when they saw them, and as she and Owen step out onto the porch, she could just barely hear Owen reminding Maisie, again, not to follow them. Once they were both outside, they shut the door behind them, and stood at the top of the steps, hand in hand, facing the crowd.

As expected, questions started getting thrown at them from all directions, and Claire just raised a hand, waiting for them to quiet, which they did, somewhat reluctantly. With a glance at Owen, she spoke up. "We know you have questions, but we want to give a statement first." She had it written down, and it was in her pocket, but in that moment, she decided not to read from it. Owen didn't like talking to reporters, and Claire didn't like _having_ him talk to reporters, since his instinct was to lash out when he didn't like the questions. They had agreed that she'd do the majority of the talking but had written the statement together. Now, he gave her hand a squeeze of encouragement.

"Three years ago, Owen and I were incredibly lucky to have met a young girl on what was a very tragic and terrifying evening, for both us and for her. While there are many things that happened that day, and in the days before and after, that I – we – regret or wish we had the ability to change, meeting Maisie and having her join our lives and family is not one of them. How she came to be is nowhere near as important as who she will become. She is growing up to be an incredibly smart, courageous, and kind, soon-to-be teen. She is a person, full stop. What she _isn't_ , is something for you and the whole world to stare at. She's not some _thing_. She's our daughter.

"The dinosaurs, Jurassic World, and Jurassic Park have taught us many lessons. Unfortunately, many of these lessons we seem to be incapable of learning from. It's well past time that that changes. Yes, the research has been done and the knowledge has been gained. But we need to start questioning, 'at what expense?' What did _we_ as a community, a country, as _humanity_ have to give up in order to gain that knowledge? And was it worth it? Universities have research ethics boards for a reason. We know that there are right and wrong ways to do research. We _know_ that the ends _do not_ justify the means.

"We understand that we can't forget the knowledge that has been gained. And we understand the potential this knowledge unleashes. What we insist on, what we _require_ , as we move forward with this knowledge, is that we take it back. Back from the hands of private vigilante researchers like Henry Wu. Back from the billionaires with nothing but time and money on their hands. And back from private companies that look at profit before anything else. It's time that this research is brought back under the watchful eyes of ethics boards. That the implications are discussed and debated. That the next steps forward are chosen because they are the _right_ steps, not because they are the most profitable or the 'coolest' or the whims of some person.

"Is Wu right, that Maisie holds some key? We don't know. What we _do_ know, is that she's not going to be a pawn in his game. We will not work with Wu, but we are willing to consider working with researchers at UCSF, Stanford, or other universities. If there is a way for some good to come out of all the bad, let's find it. But we will _not_ be doing so at the expense of turning her into a lab rat or sideshow or anything along those lines.

"Maisie is first and foremost our daughter. She is a person who has her own rights. She will be involved in any decisions we make moving forward. But let's be clear, these decisions are not up for debate by the public and the public has no right to decide for us or for her.

"What we need, what _Maisie_ needs, is to be able to get her life back. To go back to school. To be able to play outside. To be able to just _leave her house_. We will answer a few questions, but then, what we need, is for you, _all of you_ , to finally _back off_. To stop camping out in our front yard. To leave our neighbours and our friends alone. Find something else. Our 15 minutes should have been long over."

x x x

Watching the last of the news vans finally drive away from their yard lifted another weight off Claire's shoulders. She was standing in the upstairs hallway, a little back from the window so that they couldn't see her watching. She was looking forward to finally being able to open all the curtains fully again. Maisie was out in the backyard with Owen. The two were revelling in the fact that they were outside again.

While there were still many things left unsettled, it was starting to feel like they might actually emerge from this portion of their lives mostly unscathed. This time they didn't have to go face-to-face with dinosaurs. They didn't have to watch anyone they knew get eaten. And they hadn't had to run for their lives. Being cooped up inside hadn't been a cakewalk at all, but she'd definitely do it again over the alternative.

As the last news van disappeared from sight, she turned away from the window. Maybe she would go join them in the backyard. Her poor vegetable garden had been completely neglected and was probably desperate for a drink. She was heading back down the stairs when her phone rang, and she pulled it out from her pocket with a sigh, still moving towards the backyard. A glance at the call display stopped her in her tracks, as the name of their lawyer flashed across the screen. Tiny tendrils of panic started to rise, but she forced them down, and answered the call. What now?

"Hello?"

"Claire, I'm glad I caught you," her lawyer replied. "I've got great news. I just got a call from the judge saying that they've finalized and signed off on the adoption."

"They signed off… you mean it's done?" Claire put a hand out to brace herself against the wall. This was definitely not the news she was expecting. Her breath caught in her throat and she forced herself to exhale. "Do you mean it?"

"Yes! It's done, you can come pick up the papers tomorrow," her lawyer said cheerfully. "I'm so sorry it took so long, but I think the latest news is what finally pushed it through."

"Oh my god," Claire was still in a state of shock. "Really, it's done?" She knew she'd already asked but she still didn't quite believe it.

"100%. Maisie is now officially yours and Owen's daughter," the lawyer confirmed.

"Thanks so much for letting me know," Claire managed to get out and with quick farewells they hung up. She took a moment to regain her composure, before continuing to the backyard, a spring in her step. It was about time she got news that she _wanted_ to share.

As she exited onto the patio, Owen looked over from where he and Maisie were running soccer drills. "Are they all gone?"

"All clear," Claire confirmed, crossing the yard towards them. "But that's not even the best news." She couldn't help the excited grin that was on her face.

"Good news? I'm not sure I even remember what that is," Owen joked, stopping the soccer ball that Maisie kicked at him.

"I just got off the phone with our lawyers," Claire lifted her phone that was still in her hand. "And guess what?" She was too excited to even give them a chance to say anything. "It's finalized!"

"What's finalized?" Maisie asked, approaching them, since Owen hadn't kicked the ball back. Owen was too busy looking at Claire with a stunned look.

"It's done?" Owen asked quietly, and Claire gave a single nod to him, before turning her gaze to Maisie.

"The adoption," she clarified. "You are officially our daughter!"

"Really?" Maisie, like Owen, and like Claire before, couldn't quite believe it. Her gaze was jumping between the two, like she was waiting for them (or someone else) to jump out and tell her it was all a joke.

"Really."

"I didn't think anything could be better than finally getting those reporters to leave," Owen stated in a stunned voice, "but this blows that out of the water." He seemed to finally regain some control of himself, and before Claire could even blink he had the two of them wrapped up in a hug.

Claire had one arm wrapped around Owen's waist and the other around Maisie, pulling both as close to her as she could. She could feel tears sliding down her cheeks, and for once, they were good tears; tears of joy and relief. She pulled back slightly when she heard Maisie mumbling and couldn't make out the words.

"You're… you're actually my parents now. _Really_ my parents," Maisie looked at them in wonder.

"We've been your parents for three years, kiddo," Owen reminded her gently.

"I know, but it's not the same," Maisie shook her head. "Before you were my guardians, but now… I have _parents_!" Even though she was the one who asked for the process to be started, and even though she'd been kept up-to-date throughout the whole thing, the fact that it was over was hard to comprehend. "Parents…" She continued to look at them both, gaze moving from one to the other and then back again. "Does this mean…"

"Does this mean what?" Claire asked.

Maisie paused, before looking down, unable to meet their eyes, as she asked. "Does it mean that you guys are… that I can call you… mom and dad?" She was now staring intently at the grass and so she missed the first tears that slid down Owen's cheeks as he and Claire immediately started nodding.

"Yes, god yes," Claire said.

"Kiddo, we'd love it if you called us that," Owen added. "But only if you want to."

Maisie hesitantly looked up at them, her eyes widening as she took in Owen's tears. She didn't think she had ever seen him cry before. "I'd like to," she told them, before following, her voice filled with awe, "I have a mom and dad."

"You've always had us."

x x x

It was late when Claire and Owen retreated to their bedroom for the night. Between the relief of being able to leave their house, and the excitement of the adoption being finalized, the afternoon and evening had flown by. They had gone on a bike ride around the neighbourhood (not Claire's first choice, but the excitement of the other two convinced her to join). They had a celebratory dinner as well. They decided to stay in and order their favourite take-out, because while the reporters may have left, they weren't ready to believe that everyone else would leave them alone if they went out. Maisie was actually looking forward to returning to school and the three had confirmed their plans to take a long weekend and head out to the cabin. Fresh air and the outdoors with not only no reporters, but no neighbours and no city stress appealing to all three.

There was one last thing weighing on Claire's mind, and as she turned down her covers and switched on her bedside lamp, she finally found the courage to face it. The day had been great, and she didn't really want to ruin it with a hard conversation. But she'd talked briefly with Zia earlier, and Zia had just said simply at the end, " _Sounds like things are coming together. You know, whatever it is that's been going on with you and Owen? Whatever it is you want to say? Just tell him. The guy loves you and would move mountains for you. The longer you leave it, the more you're going to worry about it, and I really don't think things are anywhere near as bad as your mind is making them out to be._ "

And so, while it might not be the best time, was there really ever going to be a good time? She sat down on the bed, facing the bathroom, waiting for Owen to finish up and come out. She could see him brushing his teeth at the sink. As he exited the bathroom a minute later, he paused a few steps into the bedroom, looking at her curiously. "What's up?"

"I just…" Claire wrung her hands in front of her. "I just need to know… I don't… I don't even know if you want to be married," she finally sighed. "I mean, I know I pushed the issue for Maisie. And–"

"God Claire, I want this," Owen interrupted as he raised his left hand, showing off his ring. "I've always wanted this. I had – I have a ring, you know? From before. I wanted to ask. I was _going_ to ask. But I didn't even know if you wanted to get married. We hadn't talked about it. And then things started falling apart. We were drifting apart, and I didn't want you to say 'yes' just as a way to tie us together. I wanted you to _want_ to say 'yes.' And then… then we weren't together. But I kept it. I couldn't bring myself to return it. To have to admit to that failure. To let it be over." By the time Owen finished talking, he was sitting beside her on the bed, and she had turned towards him. He grasped her hands lightly, looking intently into her eyes.

"But you never– Why didn't you–? It's been three years!" Claire's eyes were locked on his, but her reply was stuttered.

"When was I supposed to say something? Everything happened so fast. And _you_ asked _me_. I didn't even get a chance to ask you. How would you have taken it if I had said 'no'? It's not like I could then turn around and ask you after that. And I didn't _want_ to say 'no'! Because I want this. God do I want it. I just wish the circumstances of how it began were different. But I would never change the outcome." Owen paused, his grip on her hands tightening slightly. "Seriously, I _want_ this. I want to be married to you. I know things haven't been great. I know that I didn't deal with the whole job situation well. But none of that, nothing that's happened, ever changes the fact that I want to be right here."

Claire looked down at their joined hands briefly, gaze resting on their wedding rings, thankfully situated where they both belong. "And the ring? What happened to it?"

"I was going to give it to you but you said you didn't want one. And then we were married, like a week later. So before I could even figure out _how_ to give it to you, you had a wedding ring. And, well, it feels crazy to give someone an engagement ring after the wedding," Owen looked abashed.

She rubbed her thumb soothingly over the back of his hand, before meeting his gaze, "Do you still have it?"

 **The End. :)**

* * *

 _This is the last main chapter but I do have an epilogue that I'm hoping to post Sunday (make sure you come back for it!). It's been a fun ride and thanks so much for sticking with me. I put a lot of hours into writing this but it amazes me all the time you have spent reading it! Thanks so spending your free time hanging out with me. :)_

 _I've got another story in the planning stages and am hoping to start writing it soon_

 _x x x_

 _I've got to throw out another **gigantic** **THANK YOU to Elise-Collier**. She has put in almost as much time as myself in helping me test my ideas, editing chapters, trying to figure out how to work around the numerous plot holes in FK and more! I have bounced so many ideas off of her, and also thrown so many random "Hey, I just noticed x, what do you think that means?" questions at her and she's been with me on this journey from the start. If you haven't yet, check out her stuff. She's all-around amazing. :)_

 _x x x_

 _Finally, **thank you** to each and every one of you who has read the story. An extra special **THANKS** to those who have taken the time to review:_

 _(In no particular order and I really hope I didn't miss anyone):_

 _Shian1998, Elise-Collier, acetwolf94, Clawenforever, Guest Zero, Camazotz, lucel18, JJ, ShanteRenee, EmeraldTyphoon47, Anony, SmellyThePirate, Andimcc, 2304, speakman26, Rohit P, Guest, Atieno, ErynGrace, whaaaaaaat, teamtucker, Lin, marteeey, AnileX09, Mccordclan, Linzerj, Lainey, Natalie, poeticandvaguelysweet, Zivit, spoilerjinx, Mikaelly, Anonimo_

 _If you've enjoyed reading this and haven't dropped a review yet, please do. It means so much to hear what you guys like and what you didn't. And I use your feedback to improve the chapters. It may also influence my upcoming fic and choices I'm going to make._


	13. Epilogue

_Credit goes to **EliseCollier** \- this all came about because she asked what happened to the ring? What was Owen's answer? And so I wrote the scene about it as a bit of a joke for her and then, voila, it morphed into the epilogue._

 **Epilogue**

Sitting on the log by the campfire, bottle of beer in one hand, and a stick he was using to poke at the fire in the other, Owen was lost in his thoughts. It was hard to believe almost five months had passed since Maisie's adoption was finalized. Five months since the world found out that she was a clone. Five months since the dinosaur field tests and hybrid dinosaurs. Five months since he and Claire had been on the edge of divorce. Even now, just thinking of the word divorce made his pulse still momentarily, then skyrocket. Thankfully, all of that was behind them.

It wasn't that things were perfect. Claire still worked a lot, but he accepted that was who she was and she did make a point of being present when she was home and hanging out with him and/or Maisie. She'd even returned to spending time with him in the garage – she'd sometimes bring out work or a book she was reading, and sit while he'd tinker away on his motorcycle. Maisie showed up once, wondering what was going on before looking at them both oddly and just stating that they were "weird" before leaving.

In fact, he and Claire were spending a lot more time together than they had over the past few years. It was like the whole experience was a wakeup call that being married couldn't and shouldn't be because of Maisie. That they needed their relationship to be strong and grounded in each other as well. His new job actually had him close enough to the DPG headquarters that the two were often able to meet for lunch, usually picking a location midway between both, so that they'd both be reminded to leave work behind (more a problem for Claire, who would constantly be bombarded with questions if they stayed at the DPG).

They'd been visiting the cabin more, too. After their "house arrest" period, it had felt so great to be out there and have the freedom to just move around without people watching and judging their every move. Also, work didn't follow them out there, the way it generally did when they stayed home. They had made it a point to get out at least once a month for the remainder of the school year and had managed almost every other weekend for the summer, including the entire week around Independence Day.

A bump against his side startled him out of his thoughts, and he looked to his right to see Claire sitting down beside him while balancing a bag of marshmallows, box of graham crackers and a few chocolate bars, while also holding a couple of bottles of beer under her arm. She dropped the stuff beside her, before turning to him and holding out a beer. He looked at the one in his hand and realized it was empty. Putting the bottle down, he happily switched it out for a new one.

"Cheers," Claire said, gently bumping her bottle against his, and he repeated it back. The two took a sip, both turning their gazes to the fire. Owen put down the stick he'd been using to poke the fire and wrapped his arm around Claire's back, pulling her into his side. She cuddled closer, resting her left hand on his thigh, squeezing lightly. Looking down, the sight of her wedding and engagement rings sitting nestled together made him smile. After she'd asked him if he still had it, and he'd admitted that he did, she'd kissed him. They had got a little carried away – it _had_ been a long time and there was a lot to celebrate that night – and so it wasn't until the following morning, as they were eating breakfast, that Claire even remembered the ring again.

x x x

 _Owen gave her a sly smile when she asked about the engagement ring and told her that he had already given it to her, she just wasn't observant enough to notice. Claire was confused, sure that Owen must be wrong, as she prided herself on how detail oriented she was._

" _No way, I'd have noticed," Claire disagreed._

 _Owen chuckled at her half-offended, half-shocked expression. "Go and look in your office," he replied._

 _Claire was out of the kitchen before he could even finish, and he followed slowly behind, carefully carrying his coffee cup. He watched from the doorway as her gaze travelled the room. She barely looked at her desk, instead sweeping her gaze over the framed photos on the wall, the windowsill, and her bookcase. When those all came up negative, she turned back to her desk and examined it critically. He knew the moment her eyes lit on Fred, her gaze doubling back to the cactus, hanging out in his new pot._

 _She leaned closer, examining Fred carefully, realizing that he appeared to be wearing what looked like a crown. Picking Fred up, she realized that it was a thin gold ring, with a single diamond, perched atop Fred's "head." She carefully removed the ring, trying not to get pricked as she did so. On closer look, she realized that the ring matched perfectly with her wedding ring, as if they were always meant to be a set._

 _Owen shifted against the doorframe, where he'd been leaning as he sipped his coffee, and he must've made enough noise to draw Claire's attention. As her gaze shifted towards him, she looked overwhelmed._

 _Owen gave a bashful shrug before saying, "What do you think?"_

" _You… it…" Claire looked down at the ring. When she looked up again, Owen had moved to stand directly in front of her. He placed his coffee cup down on the desk, before gently taking the ring from her. Lightly grasping her left hand, he stated "I had it with me when I picked out our wedding rings. I wanted you to be able to wear both." He slid it onto her finger until it rested up against her wedding ring. "And, now, you are."_

x x x

"Where's your head at?" Claire's question pulled Owen from his thoughts again, and he shifted his gaze towards her. She'd tucked herself in tightly against his side, her head resting against his shoulder.

Dropping a kiss in her hair, he answered, "Just … thinking. This has been a crazy year."

"Bad memories?" Claire half-asked and half-joked with a smile, tilting her head to look up at him.

"Some were good," Owen grinned back, before dipping his head to catch her lips in a kiss. It deepened for a couple of moments, before they both pulled back. Owen wrapped his arm around her tighter and Claire snuggled closer.

The two sat there, watching the flames dancing about, flickering and shooting off occasional sparks. Claire debated the s'mores ingredients sitting beside her, but she was too comfortable now to bother with them. Besides, Maisie was expected back any moment and she'd be more than happy to roast marshmallows for all three of them.

Owen _was_ right, it had been a crazy year. But things had definitely been on an upswing since the first half. In the end, the DPG _had_ worked with the government and resettled three dinosaurs at the sanctuary, and there were still believed to potentially be a few more that they hadn't located yet. The hybrid _Allosaurus-Velociraptor_ had been put down, so Blue remained the only raptor at the sanctuary.

School had been a bit rough the first couple of weeks that Maisie went back. They had actually debated pulling her from the school after the first couple of days but realized it wouldn't improve anything. Kids at all the schools around them would know who Maisie was and the story behind her. It was something Maisie was going to have to deal with for the rest of her life. And, after the first couple of weeks, things actually settled back down to normal. These kids had been going to school with Maisie for three years now, and once they realized that she really wasn't any different than she had been before (combined with the very strict zero-tolerance bullying policy of the school) the teasing and taunting had dropped off.

Maisie had missed a couple of tests, and so there had been some extra-long school days as she got caught up and had make-up tests. But Claire and Maisie had worked out a schedule to get her back on track, the two diligently sitting down to work on her homework most evenings, with Owen putting in his required time as her algebra tutor.

And one of Claire's favourite memories from this year, a memory she'd cherish going forward, was that she and Owen finally had a honeymoon. They never had one when they got married, everything being rushed, and neither thinking it was a good idea for the two to disappear on Maisie. And then, their lives revolved around Maisie, and the idea of the two of them taking a trip without her never even came up in conversation. But after everything that happened, after how close everything came to falling irreparably apart, a getaway just the two of them was more than in order. Iris had quickly volunteered to take Maisie while they were gone, solving that piece of the problem.

They ended up on an Alaskan cruise. Claire had proposed Europe at first, but both had vetoed it, as it was too far for a weeklong trip, and Owen had no interest in being dragged through museums. They had also both vetoed Hawaii as being too close of a reminder to Isla Nublar. Owen had also joked that if they were going to consider Hawaii, they might as well just go to the sanctuary – similar weather, similar terrain, but way less expensive and way more exclusive.

" _If you want to go to a tropical island, why don't we just go to the sanctuary. At least there no one will bug us."_

" _Except for Blue."_

" _Right, that's true. Blue will want to say hi."_

In the end, Owen had said if it was to be their honeymoon, then the main focus of the trip planning should be the hotel room. He'd raised an eyebrow at her cheekily at that statement, and she'd thrown a pen at him in response. But he _was_ right, to a degree. Claire had a few other conditions that she wanted met (the main one being not having to make her own meals and to not be eating fast food either). It was actually Franklin who mentioned the idea of a cruise, and after some searching, Claire had found a weeklong Alaskan Cruise that was only for adults. (If they weren't taking Maisie, they had no interest in being surrounded by other children.)

The cruise had been perfect. Beautiful scenery as they sailed the coast of BC to Alaska. They saw Orcas, dolphins, humpback whales, seals, sea lions and more. And Owen managed to go on a fishing trip excursion at one of the stops while Claire checked out the local museums and art galleries. But really, they spent the vast majority of their time in their room. It truly was a honeymoon for them.

Excited yipping, followed by Maisie's voice commanding that "Moose, STOP!", followed by Owen shifting beside her, startled Claire out of her thoughts. It was Claire's fast reactions (only because Owen still had one hand holding a beer and the other arm wrapped around her) that saved the dog, as she grabbed its collar, pulling it back from the fire.

"Moose, you're such a stupid dog," Maisie came rushing up, shaking her head at the dog. "You'd think he'd have learned not to get too close by now." She looked at Owen and Claire in bewilderment.

"Still want a dog?" Owen asked, lifting a single eyebrow.

"Of course," Maisie flopped onto the log on the other side of the snacks, grabbing the bag of marshmallows. "I don't want _that_ dog, but a different breed of dog, dad, could be fun. I mean, what's so wrong with dogs? You get to work with them every day." She speared a marshmallow before placing it directly in the flames, watching it immediately become engulfed. She lifted it high, letting it act as a torch. "Besides, I'm _totally_ ready to take care of one. Have you _seen_ how well I've done with Moose?"

Owen rolled his eyes, before grabbing a stick and motioning for the bag of marshmallows. "You're doing it wrong," he shook his head. "You're supposed to _lightly_ toast them. Not turn them into charcoal."

"I like it this way," Maisie pulled the blackened mess off the end, leaving behind the inner marshmallow remains on her stick. She stuck the burnt mass into her mouth with a silly grin, before moving the remaining marshmallow back into the fire, to once again become engulfed.

Owen carefully held his own marshmallow above the flames, turning the stick slowly. He glanced at Claire, who still had a hand tightly holding onto Moose's collar, the dog looking eager to jump into the fire himself. "I don't know kiddo, doesn't look like you're the one who's been doing most of the work." Satisfied his marshmallow was perfectly toasted, he carefully made it into a s'more and handed it over to Claire, who took it with a smile, while he stabbed another marshmallow.

"Well, it _would_ be a family pet," Maisie considered, eyeing Moose. "So really, it would be _all_ of our responsibilities. I guess it's a good thing you guys are getting practice too."

"We'll talk," Owen conceded, as Claire muffled a laugh by shoving the last of her s'more into her mouth. "No promises."

* * *

 _And that's a wrap. :) Thanks again for joining me on this very angst-filled ride. If you want to be notified when my next stuff gets posted, subscribe to me as an author and you should receive an email._

 _Oh, and if you're curious, the ring (I ended up searching as Elise and I debated what it might look like) we agreed on was from Vrai and Oro. Look up engagement rings and "The Solitaire" in 18k rose gold (sorry I can't link it here)._

 _P.S. Did you catch the callback to Ellie Sattler?_


	14. Teaser

Just a note to let you know that I've started a series of one shots covering Owen, Claire and Maisie becoming a family, called **Snapshots**. The first one shot is up now.

It takes place in the Full Circle universe, but will focus primarily on random moments during the three years between Fallen Kingdom and Full Circle. Think a lot more fluff and a lot less angst. :)

 ** _Teaser_**

"Whoa, slow down there kiddo," Owen smiled at her exasperated huff. "Lots of time to explore. We're here for two nights." He opened his door, allowing Maisie to finally get her own open, and she almost tumbled out of the back. He grabbed her by the arm, keeping her upright, until she got her footing again.

"We've only got one full day," Maisie explained in a rush. "I can't waste a minute."

"Be careful," Claire called out, exiting her side of the truck, watching as Maisie headed straight for the frame of the cabin, scrambling up onto the platform and looking around in delight. She circled around the front of the cab, coming to a stop by Owen's side, wrapping her arm around his waist. He followed by draping his arm across her shoulder, pulling her in close. "So," Claire said, tilting her head to look up at him. "You going to give me the grand tour?"

* * *

Also, if you haven't yet, I've been busy working and updating my latest multi-chapter fic called **Going Back**. What happens if you remove the Volcano and Maisie from Fallen Kingdom? And replace Franklin with Lowery? It ends up being a much different story, although it starts of similarly. There are 5 chapters up so far (plus the prologue) and I'm updating it twice a week. There's some Clawen angst, but not at the levels of Full Circle (sorry). It's a lot more adventure focused and will have more dinosaurs. :)

 ** _Teaser_**

"How are things going today?" Claire looked around the room. Zia's background was as a paleo-veterinarian, but at the DPG her role was much more second-in-command. There were not a lot of daily paleo-vet activities to be done with the dinosaurs still on Isla Nublar and the island still under quarantine, barring outside access. The DPG had been trying to get an exception to that rule for over a year now, but had had no luck.

"Normal," Zia shrugged. "There's another rally being planned in a couple of weeks, so some are getting a jump on the posters. We really need some new information. It's getting tough to continue to try and raise money, hell, to even get people to care at this point. There hasn't been any video footage from that island in over a year. People are starting to think that the dinosaurs are all probably dead already."

"I know," Claire sighed. "I'm working on it, I really am."

"I know you are."

"Hey, I've got an in-person meeting scheduled with Delgado. Maybe this will be the in we need," Claire gave a hopeful smile. "You never know."

"Let's hope," Zia agreed.

"You will see a dinosaur with your own eyes," Claire promised, getting up from her seat. "I'm going to make sure of that."

"Even if it's illegal?" Zia raised an eyebrow in question. She'd been pushing Claire on this for a few weeks now. That if the government wasn't going to cave, that they may have to take matters into their own hands.

"We're not there yet," Claire shook her head. "But… let's cross that bridge when we come to it."

* * *

 ** _I hope you take a moment to check out these others fics, as well as any of the other pieces I've written. Reviews, favourites, and hits help keep me motivated to write more._ **


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